


Less Than Perfect

by Kelinswriter



Series: The Only Sun I Need is You [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Sanvers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelinswriter/pseuds/Kelinswriter
Summary: Set after 2x08: MedusaOr, what happened in the month we never saw.This chapter moderately NSFW.





	1. Kiss the Girl

Somewhere between _Maggie’s right, we should kiss the girls we want to kiss_ and _Wait, you want to kiss me?_ and _Holy fuck, Maggie Sawyer is kissing me,_ Alex’s entire world changed. Changed, expanded, rearranged itself into a life before Maggie and a life after. All with one gob-smacking, knee-melting kiss.

And another. And then another.

They ended up on the couch somehow, migrating there by degrees until Alex was laying with her head propped against its arm, pillow tucked beneath her, with Maggie on top, her slender, jeans-clad legs intertwined with Alex’s while one thigh pressed deliciously close against Alex’s center. Every time Maggie shifted, Alex felt it through the thin cotton of her pajama pants, a deep, electric sensation that moved outward, spreading throughout her body until even her skin seemed on fire. But that was just one among the many extraordinary things that seemed to be happening in this strange, delirious symphony of pleasure. Because Maggie’s groin was pressed against Alex’s hipbone and Maggie’s breasts were sliding gently against Alex’s chest and Maggie’s lips were everywhere, coaxing her mouth open so she could explore inside, nibbling at her earlobes, dropping teardrop kisses against Alex’s neck and chest. And that didn’t even count the hands that framed Alex’s face, touched her skin, caressed her breasts through her shirt. 

_I finally get why teenagers can’t stop doing this._

Alex slid her hands down the back of Maggie’s shirt — her jacket had been discarded somewhere in the direction of the fireplace, and Alex truly hoped it hadn’t been singed — and teased over the top line of Maggie’s bra, catching at it and pulling gently in a way that made Maggie gasp and slide against her. Feeling brave, she kept her hands moving downward, tracing the curve of Maggie’s spine, the small of her back. Her index finger mapped the top edge of Maggie’s jeans, the knuckle dragging over the hard curve of Maggie’s belt while her fingertip grazed the smooth, bare skin that lingered just within reach. But Alex wasn’t quite adventurous enough for that yet, so she kept her hands on the outside, feeling the outline of a back pocket, the round shape of a quarter and two nickels tucked inside on the left and the slim bulge of a wallet on the right, and then a slow, rounding curve, a seam, a — 

_Oh, Jesus Christ._

Maggie let out a laugh and nipped Alex’s lower lip with her teeth. “Go on and grab hold. I don’t mind.” 

“You’re sure?” Alex asked, wanting to so much. But a sudden terror was gripping her, that they were moving too fast, that her inexperience would get in the way of Maggie’s pleasure, that she would suddenly revert to the nervous, fumbling thirteen year old that she knew was hiding beneath her twenty-nine year old skin. _Sixteen years that I could have spent figuring it out, and now it’s like I’m starting from scratch._

“Hey,” Maggie said, pressing her hand against Alex’s cheek, and Alex knew that Maggie must have seen the fear that was rushing in on her from all sides. “Alex, it’s okay to touch me. In fact, it’s better than okay.” She smiled, those brown eyes sparkling, and Alex felt like the sun was bathing its light across her face. “I don’t want you to be afraid of anything, okay? Just do what feels right.” 

“But what if it’s something you don’t like, or…” Alex frowned, her terror only increasing at the thought of so much freedom. “I just…I’m out of practice in general, to be honest.”

“How long’s it been?” Maggie asked, and Alex felt a blush rise to her face. But Maggie just looked at her calmly, as if the answer to the question didn’t matter so much as the fact that Alex felt safe to answer it. And so Alex took a deep breath, swallowed, and told her.

“About three years, probably? I can’t exactly remember. But I do know it wasn’t like this.” She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see the look on Maggie’s face when she said, all in a rush, “It was in a bathroom stall in a club, and I was drunk, and I didn’t even know his name.”

She looked up then, fearing that she would see disappointment in Maggie’s eyes. Instead, she found understanding and compassion — wisdom, even. “Sometimes it gets bad like that,” Maggie said, her voice quiet, as if Alex’s confession had struck a familiar chord. “Doing things that aren’t necessarily safe, things that maybe aren’t you, as a way of trying to figure it out.”

Her words hit Alex like a smack in the face — both because of what Maggie had said, and because it made sense, suddenly, giving her a reason for what she’d done beyond _I got really fucked up and put myself at risk._ She’d always been haunted by how ugly it could have gotten had any one of her half-dozen drunken, club-fueled hookups been in the mood to inflict some pain or forgo a condom — by how she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in ways that could have left her sick or hurt or even dead. 

_All because I was afraid to look at who I really was._

“There was a time — a really bad time after we thought my dad had died — where I did things like that because I wanted to feel,” Alex said, and saw Maggie nod, as if she too knew what it was to inflict agony on herself just to keep another pain from hurting. “But I never felt anything, not really, and then something happened that forced me to change, and after that, it just wasn’t…” She trailed off. “Important, I guess.” 

Maggie nodded again. She’d been caressing the sides of Alex’s face this whole time, Alex realized; coaxing her on, encouraging her to get the words out, to be honest about a time that she hadn’t really been honest with anyone about — not even Kara, for Kara would have taken it on herself, would have tried to fix it with her smile and her love. Only back then, Alex hadn’t wanted to be fixed.

But the acceptance in Maggie’s gaze was fixing it now, changing it from something dark and shameful to just a piece of Alex’s experience, a journey she had to travel to get to this place, to her understanding of herself, to being in Maggie’s arms. It felt good — felt right somehow, as if a broken piece had finally healed.

And so she lifted a hand to Maggie’s cheek, softly saying, “I’ve been tested, in case you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Maggie brushed the hair back from Alex’s face, her fingertip grazing Alex’s ear in ways that made her squirm. “I have too. After I broke up with my last girlfriend a while back.”

“You had concerns?” Alex asked, lifting one hand to rub slow circles against Maggie’s back. 

Maggie shook her head. “I just…wanted to be ready, maybe?” She smiled so broadly that her dimples seemed to leap out of her face, making Alex want to kiss her senseless. “I guess you’ve been under my skin for a while now, Danvers.”

“Mine too.” Alex felt Maggie shift against her, her left leg stretching out enough to put pressure in just the right place, and felt a shudder roll through her. “God, Sawyer.” 

“Sorry,” Maggie said, but she didn’t look sorry at all; looked, in fact, like she’d done it on purpose. “So, are you ever going to put your hands where I’m dying for you to put them, or do I have to keep doing that until you give in?”

“Well…” Alex snickered, and then Maggie stretched against her again, and Alex’s hands slid down to grab at the underside of Maggie’s ass, not just because Maggie wanted her to, but because she needed to pull her closer, needed the pressure of their bodies against each other. Maggie pushed up on her elbows and just looked down at Alex, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight until it seemed they were ablaze.

“We fit,” she said, and Alex nodded, her throat so tight she could hardly breathe. The urge to move was intense, almost primal; but so was the desire to stay still, to remain frozen on the cusp of the precipice until time itself ended. 

And then Alex’s stomach growled. Loudly.

Maggie’s eyes crinkled and she burst out laughing, kissing Alex when she tried to bury her face in Maggie’s shoulder. She rubbed the back of Alex’s head, murmuring, “Guess it’s a good thing I brought over that pizza, huh?”

“Next time you want to kiss me, you don’t have to come bearing gifts,” Alex said, drawing Maggie down until she rested in the crook of Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t want to move from here, like, ever. But I’m also starving.” 

“Me too.” Maggie twisted back onto her stomach and slid her hands up to frame the sides of Alex’s face, one side of her mouth tilting sideways. “So at the risk of riling you up and bolting, I think we should hold off on...” She tilted a shoulder in the direction of Alex’s bed. “If you’re okay with that.”

“How long?” Alex asked, anxiety flaring at the thought. “Because life is short, and I’ve got a lot of time to make up for when it comes to kissing the girl I want to kiss.” 

“I am very much looking forward to helping you with that,” Maggie said with a grin. “But this is new for you, and there are things that should be savored. And besides, I think we should go out on a proper date before I —“ She broke off, her eyes flashing with something that Alex could only interpret as pure, unadulterated desire.

“Before you what?” Alex asked, and watched a slow, lazy smile spread across Maggie’s face. “Come on, don’t leave me in suspense.”

Maggie chuckled. “Okay, Danvers, you asked for it.” 

And then she pressed her mouth to Alex’s ear and described, in very specific detail, just what exactly she was planning to do before said proper date was over.

Alex slid her hands up to Maggie’s back, holding her in place for a moment while she considered those words. She drew breath to speak, drew it again, and finally said, “So when is this date taking place?”

Maggie let out a cackle and kissed the underside of Alex’s ear. “I don’t know. How’s Saturday sound? We can make a day of it.”

“That’s five days.” Alex nodded, trying to stay very still for fear she’d spontaneously combust if she moved against Maggie even a little. “I could do that. I mean, short of an alien invasion or Cadmus killing us all, what could possibly go wrong?”

She would soon regret asking that question.

\----------------

The week dragged by. The days were busy enough — the DEO was tracking shipments tied to Cadmus, and Alex spent as much time out on raids as she did in her lab — but the nights were tough, especially when Maggie had to work late and she didn’t. She got a brief reprieve on Thursday — Maggie was able to stop by for a beer after work, though based on the way Maggie was looking at her and how fast both their shirts ended up draped over the back of the couch, Alex was fairly certain a beer wasn’t what had really been on Maggie’s mind. Alex wasn’t complaining — her skin on Maggie’s, Maggie’s on hers, was intensely erotic, and all she wanted to do was explore the sensation. Yet she resolved to abide by this unwritten rule they had set for themselves; to take it slow, or at least as slow as they could manage. Two months of bickering and smoldering glances and side eye had left them both on edge, and as much as Alex was enjoying this gradual build up of sexual tension, a part of her just wanted to get on with it. So she would never quite know how she managed to lift her head, how she stopped herself from letting out a mournful cry, when Maggie said, “I should probably go.”

Of course, Maggie had decided to say this while she was tracing her lips across Alex’s upper abdominals. She had worked her way down there from her starting spot just beneath Alex’s right ear, combing over every inch of skin with the methodical detail of a forensic team sifting for trace evidence. There had been pauses, however — some of short duration, some of extensive length — for Alex to do some exploring of her own. So far she knew that Maggie loved being kissed at the base of her throat, that she giggled when Alex tickled between her shoulder blades, and that rubbing a thumb over her nipple in slow circles, either on top of or beneath her bra, would cause her to make a low noise and go very still.

But right now Maggie’s tongue was taking point, and she was using it, with aching slowness, to trace the hard seam between Alex’s ribs. Alex tensed, feeling sudden shocks run through her body, and let out a low groan. “I’m going to start calling you Livewire 2.0.” 

“That crazy bitch has nothing on me,” Maggie said, her laugh reverberating through Alex’s body. She slid up to rest her head on Alex’s shoulder, her fingertips tracing across the fine hairs that covered Alex’s arm. “You know I don’t want to go, right?”

Alex turned her head to look down at Maggie, seeing those eyes, so full of light and warmth, turned up to look at her. She nodded and slid her hand down to rest against the small of Maggie’s back, the skin smooth under her palm. “I do. But I also know that you have to work early, so you probably should.”

“Yeah.” Maggie leaned in to kiss Alex’s shoulder. Her hair skimmed across Alex’s bare skin like fine cobwebs, each one leaving a trail of sensation in its wake. “You okay with getting started around ten on Saturday?”

“That works.” Alex sucked in a deep breath, wondering how she would survive until then without seeing Maggie, without having this small, soft, warm, impossibly beautiful body against her own. Four days of this, and she was already addicted. She pressed a kiss just above Maggie’s temple, softly asking, “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Maggie said, turning to look at Alex with a decidedly mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Just make sure your bike is gassed up and ready to make some miles.”

“Got it.” Alex traced hand over Maggie’s face, wanting to memorize each line and curve of the straight nose, high cheekbones, and lush, impossibly sensual lips. She leaned in and kissed her slowly, murmuring, “If you don’t move soon, I’m going to toss your shirt into the fire so you have to stay.”

“I’d be annoyed,” Maggie said, punctuating every word with a light, teasing kiss. “I really like that shirt.”

Alex grinned down at her, gently pinching her hip. “Like you don’t have at least a half dozen other long-sleeved gray shirts in your closet.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Maggie rolled on top of her, kissed her slow, and then braced her hands against the arm of the couch and pushed onto her knees, her bra straining to keep her breasts in check. Alex caught a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, a quick flash of darker skin as one nipple was revealed, and then Maggie was sitting back on her heels, wincing, her left hand cupped over the stitches on the right side of her chest. “Dammit.”

Alex scrambled to free herself from Maggie’s weight and sat up, her doctor’s instincts on full alert. “Did you tear them?” 

“No, it’s good, it’s just sore,” Maggie said, though she looked a little ragged around the edges, as if _sore_ was a euphemism for _it hurts like a fucking bastard_. She pushed her right hand against the back of the couch, her face tightening as she braced herself to step onto the floor, and Alex caught at her arm, pulling her back down and urging her to sit. Maggie turned her head, frowning. “Alex....”

“Maggie…” Alex said, in exactly the same tone.

Maggie stared daggers at her, and Alex just shrugged and gave them right back until, with a soft laugh, Maggie relented. She turned and tucked one leg beneath her, sliding her bra strap down so she could present the wound that ran from her collarbone to the edge of her side ribs for inspection. 

Alex shifted onto her knees and leaned in, her fingertips tracing the unblemished skin around the margins. The wound looked clean, with little sign of redness, and the stitches showed no sign of tearing. She lifted her head to look back at Maggie, feeling heat rush to her cheeks when she realized that Maggie had apparently been watching her the whole time with calm, steady eyes. 

“It’s healing nicely, though you should keep a bandage over it so it doesn’t get irritated by your bra strap.” Alex leaned back on her heels, one hand still resting on Maggie’s shoulder. “You might also want to lay off the making out for a bit.”

“I would, but this girl I’m dating would be awfully upset,” Maggie said, her dimples appearing as she gave a sideways half-smile.

Alex felt her face light up at the declaration. _I’m dating Maggie Sawyer. Maggie Sawyer is dating me._ Still, she tried to hold it together, to not act like a giddy teenager at the words, much as she wanted to. Instead, she retrieved Maggie’s shirt from the back of the couch, holding it open and helping her put her right arm through the sleeve with a minimum of jostling. 

“Button-up shirts might be a good idea for a few days,” Alex suggested, her whole body tingling at the feel of drawing that knit cotton across Maggie’s ribs.

“I’ll see if I can find one that doesn’t need ironing.” Maggie pulled Alex’s dark blue Henley off the back of the couch and helped her slide it over her head. She smoothed Alex’s hair, brushing the tangle back from her face, and smiled, her thumbs tracing Alex’s cheeks. Then she pulled her in close, her kiss tender and sweet. “Thanks for making out with me.”

“Anytime.” Alex ran a hand through Maggie’s hair, her body already longing for the sensation of it drifting across her shoulders and stomach again. She wondered what it would feel like against her thighs and found herself blushing. 

Maggie smiled as if she knew what Alex was thinking. “Saturday, Danvers,” she said. “That’s not so long to wait, right?”

Alex nodded and kissed Maggie again, the sort of slow, sensual kiss that she’d been waiting to give someone her entire life. And this time when she pulled away, she noticed that Maggie’s cheeks were a little red too.


	2. Between the Earth and the Clear Blue Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the big date arrives.

As promised, Maggie was waiting outside Alex’s apartment by 10:05 on Saturday morning, and by 10:15 they were on the road. Traffic was heavy, but they both had a knack for weaving through slowdowns, and by noon they had climbed the La Cabrera pass and were free of National City. Shortly after that, they turned off the freeway, heading north on a twisting, turning two-lane highway that ran through endless stretches of hard-packed desert punctuated by rubble and low, scrub-covered mountains. Off in the distance, Alex could see the back edge of the San Gabriel Mountains, and beyond, no more than a haze in the distance, the trailing edge of the Sierra Nevadas, their peaks gleaming white in the mid-day sun.

She accelerated and pulled even with Maggie, who had set a steady pace of sixty miles an hour ever since they left the freeway. Maggie turned her head as Alex drew alongside, her tinted, full-face helmet hiding her features from view. Yet Alex could all but see the grin on her girlfriend’s face as she glanced over, and Alex couldn’t help but match it, feeling happier than she had in she didn’t know how long to be riding alongside Maggie with nothing but the horizon in front of them and a clear blue sky above. 

Then Maggie raised one black-gloved hand and pointed forward, indicating the long, straight stretch of road that separated them from the next rise. Her Triumph roared as she hit the throttle, the loose braid into which her dark hair had been bound flapping against the back of her black jacket as she sped away.

 _Oh, really,_ Alex thought, and gunned the Ducati, feeling a giddy, wild exhilaration run through her as the speedometer climbed to seventy, then eighty. She was close to cracking ninety when the motor seemed to stall, the bike shuddering beneath her as it fought to stay running. She eased off the throttle, gradually slowing until she could pull over along the side of the road, and yanked off her helmet, swearing under her breath.

It must have dawned on Maggie that she wasn’t winning the race by speed alone, for she slowed down around the same time that Alex came to a stop, wheeling her bike around in a sharp turn before racing back to where Alex was parked. She pulled to a stop, bracing one foot against the ground, and popped her visor open. “What’s wrong?”

“Not sure.” Alex stripped off her gloves and reached over to kill the Ducati’s engine. “All of a sudden I lost power.” 

“That’s not good.” Maggie wheeled the Triumph around to park in front of Alex and pulled off her helmet, partially unzipping her jacket to reveal a black, v-necked shirt beneath. She stripped off her gloves and tucked them into her pocket, then knelt alongside Alex’s bike, checking the tires for damage before popping the engine cowling. Glancing over the motor with an appraising eye, she said, “Could be your plugs or a cylinder. Maybe even just a filter that needs replacing.”

“Dammit, I just had this thing in for a tune up last week.” Alex glanced around at the endless, barren landscape, which was perfect for a long day’s riding, but not for mechanical issues that required repairs. _So of course this is where my bike decides to have a meltdown._

“I should give you the name of my guy. He’d never let something like this happen.” Maggie wiped her hands on her jeans and pushed herself out of her squat, the movement so smooth and sexy that Alex almost didn’t mind that her bike had just decided to crap out on her right in the middle of their date. “I’m pretty sure this is bigger than anything I can fix, but one of my snitches drives a tow truck, and I think I can get him out here in…” Maggie pulled her phone out of her pocket and squinted down at it. “Maybe two hours?”

The comment sparked an idea, and Alex waved off the call, tugging her own phone free of her jeans. “I might have a better solution,” she said, flipping to her address book. She chose Kara’s number, shielding her screen with her hand so Maggie wouldn’t see either the contact name or the picture — which was probably for the best, considering it depicted the so-called Girl of Steel asleep on her couch with drool running down her face and a half bowl of popcorn spilled all over her lap. 

She pressed the phone to her ear, crossing her fingers that Kara would be in a place to pick up. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to hear her sister mumble a sleepy, “Hello?” as if she’d just woken up. 

“Hey…Supergirl,” Alex said, making her voice extra cheerful for Maggie’s benefit, as if it was totally normal for her to be calling up National City’s resident hero for help with a broken down bike. “I’m sure you’re very busy today rescuing kittens and saving the world from meteors and all, but I wonder if you could do me a favor.”

“Is your date sucking?” Kara asked, and Alex could all but see her sitting up, her brow crinkling as she tried to parse the reasons why Alex would be calling this early in the day. “Because I can throw her into outer space if it is.”

“No, it’s fine,” Alex said, softly breathing, “It’s so much more than fine.” She saw Maggie tilt her head to the side, as if she was trying to puzzle something out from Alex’s side of the conversation, and raised her index finger, circling it around in promise that she would soon get to the point. “It’s just my bike broke down outside of National City, and I’m wondering if maybe you could help us out.”

“Where?” Kara asked.

Alex lifted her phone away from her ear. “Where exactly are we?” 

“On Highway 63, about thirty miles north of I-40.” Maggie put her hands on her hips and backed up half a step, looking at Alex like she had lost what was left of her mind. “Are you seriously getting Supergirl to come pick us up?”

“You get that?” Alex asked into the phone, but there was no response, just a loud whoosh before the call dropped. Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she said, “She got it, and no, she’s just picking up my bike.” She paused then, unable to resist flirting a little as she added, “I mean, unless you only ride solo.”

“I think I could make an exception,” Maggie said, her mouth curving in a slow smile. “Just this once, Danvers.” 

Alex grinned back at her, and they stood there, perhaps a foot apart, gazing at each other like idiots until a sound like a speeding missile began to echo through the air. Alex turned, shading her eyes with her hand, and caught a glimpse of red and blue arcing across the sky. “There’s our tow truck now.” 

Maggie let out a guffaw and tilted her head up, watching with a mix of amusement and awe as Kara banked hard and dropped to her feet. She walked over to them, planted her hands on her hips, and said, “Hi, guys! What can I do to help?”

“Thanks for coming, Supergirl,” Alex said, and watched Kara scrunch her nose as if trying not to laugh. “You think you could get my bike back to National City?”

“Of course,” Kara said, though her eyes said _I want details about everything to this point and I want them now._ “You want me to drop it at your place or the DEO?” 

“DEO is fine,” Alex said, not wanting to explain why Supergirl would know exactly where in her building’s parking garage her motorcycle was usually parked. “I can call my new mechanic on Monday.”

Kara nodded and looked at Maggie, who was staring back at her with the sort of intensity she usually reserved for when she was about to crack a case. It seemed odd to Alex, especially considering she’d worked with Supergirl several times before — but then, this situation was nothing if not odd. 

“Hi, Maggie,” Kara said, giving Maggie one of her uber-confident Supergirl smiles. “I hope you’re feeling better since the last time I saw you.”

“Um…oh yeah, way better,” Maggie said, her left hand lifting to touch, almost unconsciously, at her injured shoulder. “Stitches come out Monday, or so my doctor tells me.” 

“If it’s ready,” Alex said with mock severity. 

“It will be.” Maggie smirked at her, then turned back to Kara, one corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. “Thanks for helping us out today.” She paused, her head tilting to the side, and slowly added, “Supergirl.”

“I’m happy to help anytime.” Kara walked toward the Ducati, hissing, “Oh my God, you two are so cute together,” as she passed.

“Just shut it,” Alex whispered, so low that only Kara could hear. “And don’t you dare bend my bike.” She pulled the keys from the ignition and tucked them into her pocket, then opened her saddlebags, retrieving a bottle of water from one compartment and her weapon from the other. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, “Why are you all mopey? Are you just tired from being on the other Earth, or is this about Jerkface?”

Kara shrugged off the question and reached down, hoisting the Ducati off the ground in one smooth motion. “Alex, Maggie, nice to see you both. Hope you have a fun afternoon!” Then she took off, shooting straight toward the sky.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” Maggie said, squinting as she watched both Kryptonian and motorcycle recede toward the horizon. She turned toward Alex, her eyes teeming with what seemed like a million questions, but all she said was, “I can’t believe you brought a gun on our date.”

“Like you didn’t,” Alex replied as she tucked the weapon into the waistband of her jeans.

“Okay, you got me there.” Maggie put an arm around Alex’s waist, her fingers sliding down the side of her jacket until they could hook into one of her belt loops. “So I guess you get to ride bitch today.” 

“Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Alex let her eyes slide downward, taking in Maggie’s tight fitting motorcycle jacket and skin-tight blue jeans. “So I have to ask. Where exactly are you keeping your gun?”

“You’ll have to look for it later,” Maggie purred, snagging her helmet off the side of her bike. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and retrieved her worn black gloves out of her pocket, yanking them on tight. “Two more hours and we’ll stop for lunch. You good with that?”

Alex picked up her helmet and pulled it onto her head, grinning. “Wherever you want to go, Sawyer. You’re in charge.” 

“Damn straight I am.” Maggie fired up the bike, holding it steady while Alex climbed on board. She wrapped her arms around Maggie’s waist, wondering if she would ever feel less than startled by her girlfriend’s compact, wiry strength, and heard a low, almost breathless, “Scoot closer.” She did and felt a shiver run through her, her body suddenly awake in ways she had never considered when she had settled on this solution to their problem. It was going to be a long afternoon, she realized, feeling the Triumph reverberate beneath her like a racehorse trembling to break from the gate. 

“Just hold tight and stay close to me,” Maggie said, snapping her visor shut. She reached down, one hand clasping Alex’s fingers across her waist, and Alex could almost feel her smile.

And once again they were underway.

______________

Maggie pulled off at a gas station around 2:30 in the afternoon. They were in the high desert now, having climbed some three thousand feet via a twisting, turning road with vistas almost as grand as those Alex could see when flying with Kara — though this time, there were no superpowers to keep her from falling should she get too close to the edge. But Maggie was a smooth and sure rider, expertly balancing the bike in the curves, leaving Alex with nothing to do but stay relaxed yet alert so they could remain in synch. As for being pressed up against Maggie’s body, so close that she could feel every move and every breath — well, Alex suspected that was something she wouldn’t be getting over anytime soon.

And they still had several hours of riding to go.

Alex climbed off the bike and pulled off her helmet, quickly moving out of the way so Maggie could dismount. Before Maggie even had the kickstand down, Alex had her credit card out and was sliding it into the reader. “I got this.”

Maggie drew off her helmet and tucked it under her arm. Her gaze — all narrowed eyes and stubborn frown — would have been intimidating had the loose strands of hair framing her face not been so adorably askew. “Danvers, what the hell.”

“You burned way more gas with me on the back of your bike.” Alex slid her card back into her pocket and reached forward, tucking those wild, straggling strands behind Maggie’s ear. “The least I can do is buy you a tank to say thank you.” 

Maggie tilted her head to the side, her mouth curving in a slow smile that yielded first one, then both dimples. “I probably should have warned you that my baby only gets premium before you made that call,” she said as she inserted the nozzle and pushed the button for the highest-octane gasoline. “But then, you do have all that extra cash you’ve won off me in pool.”

“Nice,” Alex said, watching the ridiculously overpriced gas tally up with lightning speed. She bent her knees, trying to loosen them after so much time spent sitting on the bike, and glanced around, spotting a fifties-style roadside diner — called Bob’s Big Boom Burgers, no less — across the way. “Is that where we’re headed?”

“Yup. They make one hell of a veggie burger.” Maggie must have caught Alex wrinkling her nose out the corner of her eye, for she chuckled, giving her a sideways glance as she closed out the transaction. “I’m sure the ones made out of dead cow flesh are good too.”

“Better be. Pretty sure my appetite could match my sister’s right now.” Alex pointed toward the diner. “You mind if I walk across? I need to stretch my legs a little bit.” 

“See you over there.” Maggie pulled her helmet back onto her head and climbed onto the bike, those snug-fitting jeans distracting Alex to such a degree that she nearly walked in front of a car pulling in to the next pump. She put out a hand and dodged out of the way, seeing Maggie throw her a smirk before she dropped her visor and started the bike. _Get it together,_ Alex thought, rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t help but pay close attention to Maggie’s smooth handling of the Triumph — her skill at navigating it across a patch of loose gravel without skidding, followed by the sharp, quick turns she made as she pulled onto the highway and swung the bike onto the short, steep uphill grade that led to the diner’s parking lot. 

She crossed the road and walked up the drive, arriving at the diner’s glass double doors just as Maggie did too. Alex felt warmth rise in her when Maggie took a quick extra step to get to the door first so she could be the one to hold it open, felt it rise higher when she felt Maggie’s hand rest, just for a brief instant, on the small of her back as they walked into the warm, brightly lit confines of the diner. It was cheerful, almost obnoxiously so, with booths in neon colors and fireworks stenciled on the walls. There was even a jukebox — one with actual 45s in it — spinning an old tune by the Four Seasons.

The waitress took them to a booth near the back, one that afforded a good view of both the road and the mountain vista. By the time they took turns running to the bathroom and getting their orders placed, ten minutes had passed — more than enough time for Alex’s equilibrium to return. Yet when she looked across the table at Maggie, with her disheveled braid dangling over one shoulder and her motorcycle jacket hanging half-open and her elbows crossed on the table as if she owned the damn thing, she still felt weak in the knees — and that was before she thought about what might be on the agenda after they got back to National City.

“Yo, Danvers,” Maggie said, snapping her fingers in front of Alex’s face. “You still with me?”

Alex cast a guilty look in Maggie’s direction, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Um…sure?”

“Then what was the last thing I said?” Maggie asked, her mouth curving in a slow grin, the sort that said she had Alex’s number and probably always would.

“That you…” Alex shook her head, let out a small laugh. “Okay, yeah, I checked out for a second, sorry.” She took a sip of her root beer — God, she hadn’t had this stuff in ages, and damn did it taste good — and set the frosted mug aside. “My head’s spinning after all those miles.”

“And all you had to do was hang on to me.” Maggie nudged Alex’s foot with her own, and even with two layers of heavy motorcycle boots between them, the contact shot straight up Alex’s leg, spiraling around until it landed somewhere awfully close to her groin. She watched, almost from a distance, as Maggie gestured toward the long line of snow-capped mountains on the horizon. “Pretty view though, huh?”

“The most beautiful I’ve ever seen,” Alex said, her eyes never leaving Maggie’s face. 

For an instant, it seemed as if Maggie Sawyer — the woman whose picture was most likely next to the word ‘cool’ in the dictionary — might actually be blushing. She shifted in her seat, eyes flicking toward the table, her mouth tightening as if she might be biting the inside of her lower lip. Then her gaze returned to Alex, the light coming in through the windows making her irises appear translucent as amber against the black of her pupil. Something flickered in them — hunger, perhaps need — as she leaned back in her seat and drawled, “Keep sweet talking me like that, Danvers, and I’ll throw a few extras into that plan I outlined for tonight.”

The words landed like a full-on punch from an alien twice Alex’s size, straight into the chest — the sort of heart-stopping, lung-freezing, brain-dislocating blow that left grown men on their knees. Alex sucked in a breath, tried to make her voice work, and then realized that she’d temporarily lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. Or even a single word of English, for that matter.

And then, just to add insult to injury, Maggie put those damn dimples on display.

_My God, Sawyer, you’ve got some game._

Alex dropped her head, feeling the blood run hot and fast to her face, and heard Maggie let out a low, triumphant chuckle. She looked up at her girlfriend, eyes narrowing, and said, “You are a mean, mean woman.”

“I am.” Maggie slid her hand across the table, catching Alex’s fingers and drawing them toward her. “Lucky for you I like you.” 

“If that’s what you do to people you like…” Alex let the sentence trail off, letting everything drop away except the feel of Maggie’s fingers wrapped around hers and the slight, oh so sexy smile on Maggie’s face and those eyes, those goddamn miraculous eyes that seemed to see right through Alex, to see her and get every messed up part of her and want her anyway. It made her feel whole, and alive, and free in ways she’d never imagined possible.

“Hey, ladies, here we go,” she heard, and like a record player skipping a groove, Alex was wrenched back into reality. She turned, her eyes focusing on their waitress, a tall woman with jet-black hair pulled into a bun and a rose-patterned tattoo sleeve trailing down her arm. She realized that her hand was still entwined with Maggie’s, realized a split-second later that Maggie was tensing, her fingers stiffening as if preparing to withdraw. But then the waitress smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling, and said, “Aren’t you two the cutest thing ever.” 

“We try,” Maggie said, sitting back so the waitress could place the veggie burger in front of her. Her fingers squeezed Alex’s, almost as if in defiance, before she turned toward the waitress and let loose her most charming smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have any Vegan ketchup, would you?”

“Oh, my God, what is wrong with you,” Alex muttered, and heard the waitress let out a snort. 

“Sorry, Honey, but you’re gonna have to make do with Heinz,” she said to Maggie before putting Alex’s burger down in front of her. She scanned the table, her practiced gaze that of a pro in search of anything that needed tending to. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re good,” Maggie said, and Alex nodded the same. 

“Alrighty then. Enjoy.” The waitress glanced over at Alex, winking, and then headed back toward the kitchen.

“Hmmph,” Maggie growled, staring daggers at the waitress’s retreating back. “First no Vegan ketchup, and then she flirts with my woman.”

“She wasn’t flirting,” Alex said, snagging the ketchup bottle a fraction of a second before Maggie grabbed hold. She pushed it toward Maggie, adding, “She was just being nice.”

“Clueless, party of one, your table is ready,” Maggie barked, her eyes twinkling. 

“Oh, shut up.” Alex nudged Maggie’s foot beneath the table, feeling that warmth rise in her again. “You called me ‘your woman.’”

“I did,” Maggie said, and then smiled at Alex, smiled in such a way that there was no choice but to believe that it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed the chapters count. This thing has a mind of its own, but that means more for you!
> 
> Also…Sanvers is love…and so are comments. Enjoy!


	3. It is So Ordered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road gets a little bumpy.
> 
> Warnings for homophobia, racism, implied violence, and general asshattery.

They had all but finished eating — Maggie, as it turned out, was the worst sort of French fry mooch, snagging them off the edge of Alex’s plate when she thought Alex wasn’t looking until finally, she just began reaching across and stealing them right out from beneath Alex’s nose — and Alex’s playful effort to keep her at bay was beginning to verge on silly in ways that probably would have attracted attention in a more crowded restaurant. But there were few people around in the late afternoon lull between the lunch and dinner crowds, and their waitress didn’t seem to mind that they were lingering, that their quiet chatter sometimes carried when one of them said something that caused the other to burst out laughing. She just smiled and held the check over the middle of the table, hovering for a moment as if unsure which side to favor. 

They both reached for it, but Maggie was faster, and she frowned as she set it down on the table in front of her. “Don’t even think about it this time, Danvers. I asked, so I buy.”

“Is that how it works?” both Alex and their waitress asked in unison. 

“Yes,” Maggie said, biting the inside of her lip, her eyes dancing with unshed laughter. She looked up at the waitress, her smile both polite and slightly dismissive. “Thanks a lot. We’ll be up to pay in a minute.”

“Take your time.” The waitress turned and smiled at Alex, her eyes twinkling in ways that made Alex think, _Yeah, okay maybe she is flirting with me._ Then she left, and Alex heard her stop at another booth, her low chatter with the patron inside it a barely audible hum atop the Buddy Holly song blaring out of the jukebox. 

_Do you ever long for true love from me…_

Alex reached across the now-cleared table, snagging Maggie’s fingers and giving them a squeeze. “You sure you want to drive the entire way back to National City? I can take a shift too.”

Maggie shook her head, her expression both playful and fierce. “Nobody touches that throttle but me and my mechanic. Not even you, Danvers.”

“Got it,” Alex said, trying to hold back a grin. “Clearly you and your throttle have a very special relationship, and I wouldn’t want to interfere.” 

Maggie cackled at that, and Alex felt a sudden urge to lean across the table and kiss her harder than she’d ever kissed anyone in public, at least not while sober or outside the dance floor of a crowded club. She reined in the impulse, settling for a smile that she hoped let Maggie know just what she’d been thinking, and said, “I should probably hit the bathroom again before we go.”

Maggie nodded. “I’ll take care of this, then do the same. Meet you up front?”

Alex nodded and headed off to the ladies room, expecting to see their booth empty when she came back out. Instead, she found Maggie sitting in the same spot, the unpaid check resting beneath her hand, with a look on her face like she was thinking about arresting someone on general principle.

“What’s up?” Alex asked, hovering at the edge of their booth.

Maggie looked up, her tense, guarded expression shifting in an instant, becoming something more like worry, or perhaps sorrow. She nodded toward the opposite side of the booth, murmuring, “Do me a favor and just stay put here until I’m back, will you? I’ll only be a minute.”

Alex sat down, leaning back in the booth and then turning her head, slowly, to scope out what she could see of the front of the diner. “Is it a robbery?”

“No, just another day in America,” Maggie said, and there was something weary in her tone, a note of fatalism far beyond what Alex had come to expect from her hardbitten, oh-so-cynical girlfriend. It scared her a little, though she tried not to let it show.

Maggie slid out of the booth, then seemed to hesitate, as if she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to leave Alex alone. “Just play it cool, okay?” she said, giving Alex a pointed look. “It’ll be fine.”

Alex drew breath to ask what the hell was going on, but Maggie just shook her head and strode toward the bathroom, the creaky door echoing in the sudden silence between songs. And then Alex heard the voice that had set Maggie on edge; the voice of an older man, with a rasp that came from too many cigarettes and not enough joy.

“I thought this was a family establishment, Annie. What would your daddy say if he knew you were serving the likes of them?”

Alex turned her head just far enough to clock the man’s position in a booth behind and to the left of her. He’d been talking to their waitress on and off for the last half-hour, though the jukebox and her own preoccupation with Maggie had rendered his words unintelligible. Now she heard the unvarnished rant of an aggrieved regular who expected things a certain way — a way that, apparently, did not include two women flirting and holding hands and otherwise minding their own business in his vicinity.

To her credit, their waitress didn’t seem interested in taking his shit. “First off, Gary, times have changed, and family means different things than it did when you and Daddy were kids.” Alex heard the sound of coffee pouring, followed by the shuffle of dishes being cleared by angry hands. “He’d also say that he didn’t give a good goddamn about anything except that their money is green, and if you’re all about making America great again like you say you are, then you shouldn’t care about anything but that either.”

“I care about what God says is right,” the old man croaked, and Alex felt a cold trickle of dread slide down her spine — though there was heat too, the sort of heat that flushed her cheeks and made her fingers curl into fists. She bit down on her lip, fighting the urge to scream at the idea that he or his notion of God had any right to dictate how she and Maggie felt about each other. It was sad and sick and it made her want to hit something.

She pressed her hands into the table, preparing to launch herself out of the booth and light the old man up with a verbal tsunami the likes of which he had never experienced, but just then the bathroom door opened and Maggie emerged, looking pale and hollow-eyed. She strode up to the booth and snatched the check off the table, nodding toward the front of the restaurant. “Let’s go.”

“Maggie,” Alex said, relieved at first by her return. Then she saw the stern, tight set of Maggie’s mouth, the tension in her shoulders, the way she wouldn’t make eye contact, and all she felt was fear. “Did you hear what…”

“Yes,” Maggie said, cutting her off, and Alex saw rage in her girlfriend’s eyes, a rage she was working very hard to contain. “I do. But he’s carrying, and we need to go.”

Alex’s head snapped around on instinct, looking for the weapon, but Maggie just grabbed her by the wrist and tugged, her head swiveling around to keep a watch on the rest of the diner while Alex maneuvered out of the booth. Maggie immediately set off down the narrow aisle that separated the two rows of booths, her shoulders set in a determined line. 

Alex followed close behind, though try as she might she couldn’t match Maggie’s confident stride, couldn’t keep herself from glancing at the man, with his gray beard and his sparse hair and his rumpled white t-shirt sticking out from beneath his long-sleeved plaid work shirt. A list began to rattle off in her head, a list of all the ways she could rid him of the nine millimeter tucked into the shoulder holster under his left armpit and have him pinned face down on the floor before he even knew what hit him. Yet she made herself take the hate in his eyes, swallowing down the disdain that radiated off of him, even when she heard him say, as if to no one in particular: “Such a waste of a pretty white girl like you.”

And she did it because somehow, some way, Maggie kept walking.

They got to the register, where Annie the waitress was waiting, wearing the pinched, desperate look of an animal caught in a trap. She took one look at Maggie and dropped her eyes, totaling up the check while, under her breath, she said, “I’m so sorry. My dad owned this place, and Gary was his best friend.”

“Gary’s a fucking asshole,” Maggie replied as she slipped two twenties out of her back pocket and handed them over. 

“No doubt,” said the waitress. She counted out the change and handed it to Maggie, her gaze turning to Alex with something like pleading in her eyes. “Please come back anytime. You’re always welcome.” 

Alex didn’t quite know what to say to that; how to respond to the woman’s entreaty, the way she said the right words but still tolerated the wrong ones because loyalty to a dead man’s memory outweighed her commitment to how she thought the world should be. Then she saw the old man rise, saw him start to walk toward the register, holding on to the backs of the booths while he favored his right leg. He didn’t look like a man getting ready to pull a gun, but with the way he had just been talking, Alex realized that she couldn’t quite be sure he wouldn’t do it on impulse. 

But Maggie had noticed him getting up too, and unlike Alex, she seemed capable of doing more than staring in horror. She tossed a five toward the waitress and turned, moving her hand around to slide her change into her back pocket. For an instant Alex thought Maggie was going for the gun tucked beneath her jacket, but instead her fingers caught at something in her back pocket, something that flew forward and landed on the floor, as if by accident, perhaps a foot in front of her.

Her badge. 

The old man stuttered to a halt, his jaw clenching in rage while he stared at Maggie with cold, resentful eyes. She just stared back at him, unflinching, as she crouched and picked her badge up. “Thanks,” she said to their waitress as she tucked it back into her pocket, and then she caught at Alex’s elbow, nudging her toward the door. “Go, now,” she said, pushing the door open and propelling Alex into the open air. 

“Maggie…”Alex stuttered, wanting to turn back toward the restaurant, to stare down the old man and give him a piece of her mind. 

But Maggie wouldn’t let go of her elbow, wouldn’t do anything but trudge toward the Triumph. There was no anger in her voice; only a quiet resignation as she said, “Goddammit, Alex, keep walking and don’t look back.”

“You don’t have to protect me,” Alex spat, feeling rage rise up in her again, rage not just at how loathsome the old man had behaved, but that someone as brave and strong as Maggie wasn’t willing to fight back. She jammed her gloves onto her hands, snarling, “How can you just let this go?”

“Because unlike you, I’m out of my jurisdiction, and the paperwork would be a pain in the ass.” Maggie fumbled for her keys with one hand while pulling her helmet off the back of her bike with the other. “Besides, being a homophobe may make someone a fuckhead, but last I checked it wasn’t a crime.”

“That still doesn’t make it okay,” Alex said, jamming her helmet over her head. The urge to go roaring back into the diner and rip the bastard a new one was overwhelming, but she also wanted to be far away from here, to go back to when this day was about nothing but the bike and the open road and being pressed so tight against Maggie that she could barely breathe.

“Nothing makes it okay,” Maggie said, starting the bike. She backed it around, holding it steady so Alex could climb onto the back. “And it hurts, and I hate it, but it’s the world I live in.” 

“It’s insane,” Alex growled, her anger boiling over at people like that, people who could shape and twist the world with their hate and their ugliness until something as simple as stopping for a burger could be tainted by it.

“Yes, it is.” Maggie turned, and Alex saw her mouth twist, saw some old, deep pain flash in her eyes. “But you need to understand that it’s the world you live in now too.”

Then she dropped her visor, engaged the clutch, and sped away.

 

\----------

 

They rode until the sun was low in the sky. For most of that time, Alex’s anger had built, roiling around in her stomach until it became a tight knot, but eventually, it loosened, uncoiled, mellowed into something less than a white-hot laser of fury. She wondered if this was what it was like for Kara to try to contain her powers when she was angry; marveled again at how she did it, how she managed to maintain control when the world was vicious and hurtful and unfair. But then, Kara had always had a kind soul, a soul that saw the best in people. 

Alex was better at seeing the ugliness and the hurt, the meanness and the bitterness and spite. And for the first time in her life, she was realizing what it meant to have those things turned on her simply for being who she was.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, and it made her stomach turn to think of how often Maggie must have felt the same, of how much experience she must have at managing it that she could so expertly navigate a situation that fraught. Yet there was no doubt that she’d been upset by it too, at least based on the way she was handling the bike. She’d rode hard and angry at first, attacking the curves like she was going into battle, though eventually she had eased off both the throttle and the handlebars, reasserting the smooth, flexible control that Alex had come to define as her girlfriend’s style of riding. As with most things, anger could only last so long; eventually it had to be replaced by something more sustainable. What that was, Alex wasn’t quite sure.

She heard Maggie ease off the throttle, felt the bike slow beneath them as Maggie turned into a parking area that was designated as a scenic view. She pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine, her braid smacking into Alex’s visor as she yanked off her helmet. 

“Time for a break?” Maggie asked, though considering the bike was already shut down, it wasn’t exactly up for debate.

Alex nodded and pulled off her helmet, stripping off her gloves and tucking them into her pocket. She looked toward the long line of mountains in the distance, their deepening shadows backlit by brilliant shades of orange, purple, and blue, and felt the tension in her ease. “Jesus, that’s beautiful.”

“I love coming out here at sunset.” Maggie caught Alex’s hand and drew her forward, leading her to a rocky outcrop near the edge of the guardrail that separated them from a very steep drop off. Far below, a river sparkled in the distance, its deep blue waters shimmering with flecks of golden sunlight. The looked down at it for a moment, taking in the view, and then Maggie drew Alex toward the rock’s flat surface, one that had been worn smooth by decades of tourists using it as a makeshift bench. She sat down and braced her hands against it, sliding back until she could stretch her legs out, then gestured for Alex to settle in beside her. For a moment they simply stared out over the horizon, waiting, it seemed, until words felt safe again.

“So that happened,” Maggie said at last. She sat up, crossing her right leg beneath her while she braced her elbow against her left, and looked over at Alex. She looked tired still, almost bruised by the experience; but Alex sensed that those bruises would not have been near so deep had she not been a target too.

“Yeah, it did.” Alex slid her left hand down and found Maggie’s in the growing shadows, the contact grounding her enough that she could find words to put to her feelings. “I think I knew it could happen in theory, but I still —“ She looked toward the sunset, drew in a shaky breath. “I wasn’t ready.”

“There’s no such thing as ready when it happens.” Maggie looked at her steadily, something both weary and wise in her gaze. “Even with what we do for a living, it’s scary, because it’s terrifying to think that someone might want to hurt you just for existing. And then you think about all the people who don’t know how to take care of themselves like we do, people who get harassed or threatened on a daily basis or have to worry about losing their jobs, and it feels even worse.”

Alex thought about that for a moment, about how hard it would be to live in a world where coming out could mean risking a job or even her own safety. That had never been a consideration for her; her worries had been about what the people around her would think of her, not whether being honest about who she was would destroy her life. The thought of it — especially the thought that it might be happening to kids — just made her angry all over again. 

“How do you deal with it?” she asked. “Never knowing what you’re walking into, how people will treat you?”

“Well, I try to stay within the limits of National City,” Maggie said, letting out a low, somewhat bitter laugh. “I probably should have thought of that before I decided to bring you out here. I’m sorry about that.”

“I wouldn’t have traded today for anything in the world,” Alex said, and saw one corner of Maggie’s mouth turn up in response. “But even in National City, there have to be assholes like that guy. So how do you handle it?”

“That’s a long story.” Maggie looked away for a minute, her mouth almost trembling, and Alex sensed that for Maggie, long stories were something that she didn’t tell often, that she preferred to make her voice heard through action rather than words. But then she turned her face to the sun, its light illuminating each line and plane of her features, and quietly asked, “Do you remember when the gay marriage ruling happened?”

“You mean, when it went national?” Alex thought back on that Friday morning some eighteen months earlier — back when Kara had only been Kara Danvers, and Alex’s biggest worry about her little sister was that Cat Grant would fire her. “I remember Kara blew up my phone with texts about how crazy things were at her job. And then I got to work and Vasquez was just glowing.” 

“Yeah, I called that one,” Maggie said with a low chuckle. She clasped her hands in front of her, staring out across the vista, and said, “I was still working in Gotham at the time. I’d just gotten my first coffee when I heard the desk sergeant— big Irish guy, name of McDuffy — swearing up a blue streak, going on and on about how we could now get married like everyone else, only he was using every nasty word you can think of to describe us.” 

Alex squeezed Maggie’s hand, the knot in her stomach returning. It made her feel sick to think that something so beautiful — such a positive moment, not just for the LGBTQ community, but for the entire country — could have been ruined for Maggie by bullying and hate. 

“Then he pointed at me,” Maggie continued, her mouth twisting at the memory. “Just kept stabbing his finger at me and said, ‘I suppose this means you’ll be getting married now too, all so some bitch who never spent a minute on the job can eat away at my pension just so you can pay for a sperm donor.’”

Alex felt the words like a physical blow, and did her best to quell the impulse to have Winn pull the bastard’s jacket so she could find a way to make him miserable come Monday morning. _Abusing Federal powers to harass a homophobe is a crime,_ she reminded herself, though the temptation was overwhelming. Yet she turned back to Maggie, quietly asking, “What did you do?” 

“Well, I’d just gone through a breakup with someone who’d lost her career to ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ so what I wanted to do was beat the crap out of him,” Maggie said, something dark and wild flashing in her eyes. “But instead, I marched into my captain’s office and told her she could either deal with the headache of me filing suit for workplace harassment or help me get my transfer out here.” Maggie’s lips twisted in a wry smile as she added, “She chose the latter.”

“Lucky for me,” Alex said, lifting one hand to Maggie’s cheek. She felt something melt in her as Maggie smiled, as she turned her head to press a kiss against Alex’s palm. “Even if you did tread on my crime scene.”

“Let it go, Danvers,” Maggie said, and then she reached up to pull Alex into a kiss, one that was slow and sweet and tasted like hope. Maggie smiled as she drew back, her thumb caressing Alex’s cheekbone, and then she let go, wrapping her arms around her knee as she looked out at the sunset again. “Anyway, the reason I bring it up is because Captain Essen decided to cut me loose for the day — I think she didn’t trust McDuffy to keep his mouth shut and she didn’t want me around when it he started shooting it off again — and when I went outside, the streets had turned into one big party. Then a friend and I decided to take the train over to New York and walk down to where Pride started.” She paused and looked at Alex, her head tilting to one side. “You know about that, right?” 

Alex nodded, because she knew about Stonewall — knew it as a name the president had mentioned in a speech — but she realized she didn’t know about it the way she should, the way she would if it had been covered in a book like other milestones in American history. It was just a name to her, really — except now it was part of her history. The history she shared because of who she was.

“So we get to the Village,” Maggie said, her eyes glistening with the memory, “and there’s this guy standing up on a makeshift platform, reading the ruling. The words, the actual words that said that finally we could get married, not just in some states, but in all of them. And I just stood there and tried to make myself believe that these words some old straight guy had written about how gay people had the right to marry because they were equal under the law wasn’t just some joke.” She shrugged, adding, “Hell, I even memorized some of it.”

Alex tried to imagine what it had been like to have spent the day amidst people celebrating such joyful news, rather than locked in a lab analyzing samples of alien DNA. Her life had changed that day, she realized — and she hadn’t even known it.

She pulled Maggie’s hand between her own, squeezing it gently until, at last, Maggie met her eyes. “Tell me?” 

“The words?” Maggie shrugged, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know, Danvers. It seems pretty cheesy. Wouldn’t you rather I read you some poetry?”

“If those words mattered enough for you to memorize, then they are poetry,” Alex said, and thought she saw Maggie redden a little at that. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Maggie’s knuckles, saying, “Please?”

“The things I do for you,” Maggie murmured, but Alex saw something that might have been joy in her eyes. She sat up straighter and began to repeat the words, words that Alex vaguely remembered reading at the time, but that she felt now, all the way down to the marrow of her bones.

 _“Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilizations oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”_ Maggie took a breath and looked at Alex, her eyes burning with a quiet fire. _“It is so ordered.”_

And Alex felt it then — felt the power of those fierce and beautiful words, words that came from the highest court in the land, that would stand under the law so long as the country existed. Words that, no matter how hard some people tried to undo them, could never be taken away. 

“I suppose it sounds silly for it to matter so much that someone else said what I already knew — that I was the same as everyone else, at least where this piece of the law is concerned.” Maggie turned to Alex, one hand sliding up to brush a stray tendril of hair away from her cheek. “But we’d been waiting so long for this. Watching it change state by state, in this stupid, piecemeal little hopscotch across the country. Trying to believe that somehow, some way, it would just be done for good.” She smiled at Alex, murmuring, “And then one June morning, it was.”

Alex felt tears spring to her eyes suddenly, tears for all the people, like Maggie, who had worked and waited and hoped for that moment of change. Who had struggled to be accepted, to fit in a world that said that making a commitment to be with who they loved wasn’t right or that their love was less than equal. It occurred to her then that she didn’t know anything about Maggie’s coming out, other than that her parents had been okay with it. But from the faraway look on Maggie’s face, it didn’t seem like the right time to ask.

“There’s so much I don’t understand about what it took to get to where we are now,” Alex said, feeling a strange, belated sort of joy, but one tinged with sorrow — sorrow that she hadn’t paid attention, that she’d missed her chance to be part of the battle. “I knew it was important, but it wasn’t my fight.”

“And that’s okay,” Maggie said, reaching over, and Alex realized suddenly that she was crying, that Maggie was brushing a tear off her cheek. Then Maggie smiled at her, smiled with such pride in her gaze that it felt like the sun had chosen to reverse course and rise back up again. “What matters is that you got here now. You stood up and said ‘This is real, and I’m a part of it.’”

“Even with people like —“ Alex gestured in the direction of the diner. “Like that fuckhead who tried to wreck our date?”

“Especially with that guy, but also with the waitress who tried to condemn and defend him in the same breath.” Maggie took Alex’s hand and threaded their fingers together, letting it rest gently against her hip. “People like that — the kind who just hate unreservedly, and the kind who want to support us but can’t quite take a stand — they haven’t quite figured out yet that we won. And while I might wish I could beat it into them, I know deep down I’m better off waiting for them to figure it out for themselves, because it’s going to be so much sweeter when the creeps who come after us and the people they vote for realize that nothing they do can take it away.”

Alex looked out across the vast, open vista, feeling Maggie’s words sink in like the last rays of the fading light. The sun was nearly beneath the rim of the surrounding mountains, the bright orange and purples of the coming sunset yielding to an old, faded gold that reminded her of something —of that moment, quicker than a heartbeat, when an indrawn breath signals that something is about to begin. She didn’t know what that thing was; she just knew that she was glad to be here, at the start of it all, with Maggie. 

“It’s not a perfect world,” she said, and saw Maggie nod, both in understanding and sympathy. “But it’s ours, and I’m so glad I’m in it with you.”

“Me too.” Maggie turned to her, her face limned in shadow, save for one last, faint sliver of light. She wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck and pulled her into a hug, her breath warm on Alex’s face as she kissed her cheek, and then, so very tenderly, her mouth.

“Welcome to the team, Danvers,” Maggie said, and Alex felt something click into place inside her, as if after all this time, she’d finally found a home. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm out of town next weekend so you're getting what is essentially a double chapter. It sums up a lot of things I've been thinking about during what's been a patch of really dark times. Also, I will admit that this is, in part, a love letter to a certain LGBTQ warrior mama - and oh, are we lucky to have her. Enjoy.


	4. I'll Be Seeing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path of love is never smooth…especially when you work for the DEO.

They lingered at the turnoff for a while, kissing softly while the mountains darkened into chiaroscuro shapes against a golden sky. Its colors had faded, the first stars beginning to gleam overhead, when Maggie murmured, “We should probably get back on the road.” 

Alex pressed her forehead against Maggie’s, feeling the warmth of Maggie’s hand against her cheek, the thumb that was stroking against her jawline both comforting and intensely arousing. “You know, getting on that bike again is going to be torture.”

“But it’ll be the good kind,” Maggie said, kissing Alex just below her ear. She drew back, extracting her leg from where it had been resting against Alex’s thigh. “Come on, Danvers. It shouldn’t take too long. Though…” She paused, tilting her head to one side, a mischievous smile flitting across her face. “I suppose I could take the long way, just to mess with you…”

“You wouldn’t,” Alex growled, and Maggie laughed, catching at Alex’s hand and pulling her down from her perch. They walked toward the bike together, not quite arm in arm, but still in constant contact — Alex’s elbow brushing against Maggie’s arm when she reached into her pocket for her gloves, Maggie’s pinky finger brushing against the side seam of Alex’s jeans, Alex touching the small of Maggie’s back as she braced herself to climb back onto the bike. And the touches continued as Alex wrapped her arms around Maggie’s waist, holding her close as they followed the winding road that led back to the freeway, with only the Triumph’s headlight and the stars to guide them through the rapidly darkening night.

It was then, with the constant thrum of the bike beneath her, bracing against Maggie’s body while the cool December air swirled around them, that Alex began to realize that _Tonight, I’m going to have sex with a woman for the first time, going to have sex with Maggie, going to feel what it’s like to wake up with her in my arms._ The thought hit her so hard that she jolted in her seat, and Maggie slowed the bike, turning her head as if to check that Alex was okay. 

Alex felt a flush run through her, followed by a sudden, overwhelming sense of gratitude that Maggie couldn’t see her right now. Yet she had a sneaking suspicion that Maggie was more than clear about the thoughts running through her head, especially when Maggie pushed back into her, as if to acknowledge the tension building between them. Then she squared her shoulders and pressed into the throttle again, as if determined to get them back to National City — and Alex’s apartment — in record time.

So that, of course, is when Kara showed up.

Alex saw her first as a sudden flash of red and blue across the newly risen moon, a barely perceptible flitter of motion out of the corner of her eye. Next came a flurry of movement directly above them, followed by a puff of air as if they were caught in the wake of a low-flying airplane. Maggie must have sensed it too, for Alex felt the bike slow beneath them. An instant later, Maggie activated the high-beam headlights and eased into the brake, slowly coming to a stop as Kara touched down at the edge of the golden pool of light. 

The moment it was safe, Alex was off the bike, striding over to her sister as fast as her rubbery legs would carry her. “What’s wrong?”

“The DEO is on full mobilization for a Level One incident,” Kara said, and Alex could see the disappointment in her sister’s eyes. “We need you back right away.”

“Is it here?” Alex asked, glancing at Maggie, who had reached for her phone the second she climbed off her bike, apparently to confirm that she hadn’t been called in too. 

Kara shook her head. “We’ve been detached to Special Forces — I’m not sure where, exactly, but Lucy and J’onn were arguing about whose team takes point when I left. C-130s take off in a half hour.” 

“Shit,” Alex snapped, and in the aftermath of that single word, a silent conversation passed between them. 

_I hate that I’m messing up your date._

_I know, but it’s not your fault. This is what we do._

_Still sucks though._

_You have_ no _idea._

“Give me a minute, okay?” Alex murmured, squeezing Kara’s elbow, and then she walked back toward the Triumph, wondering as she did if this is what it felt like when a condemned woman walked to the gallows. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach, a swirling mix of anger and frustration and thwarted lust that she felt fairly sure was going to be taken out on whatever goddamn alien had dared to fuck with her first real date with Maggie Sawyer. But mostly, what she felt was how deeply, brutally unfair this was — not just to her, but to Maggie too.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, reaching for Maggie’s hand.

“Duty calls. I get it.” There was understanding in Maggie’s eyes, but beneath it was worry — the kind that came from caring about someone who ran toward rather than away from danger. It was the sort of worry, Alex realized, that they would always share so long as they were together. “You need backup?”

“It’s…elsewhere,” Alex said, wishing she had a better explanation to give. “I don’t really have the details, but I’m guessing I’m going to be out of town for a couple of days.”

Maggie nodded, and for an instant, Alex saw something that might have been fear flicker across her face. Then she drew in close, her arms settling around Alex’s waist while she looked up at her, both trust and confident reassurance in her gaze. “Do me a favor and come home safe, will you, Danvers?”

“I’ve definitely got a reason to.” Alex lifted her hands to Maggie’s cheeks, drawing her into a kiss, and felt Maggie’s arms wrap around her, as if willing strength into her body. They lingered like that for a moment, their faces pressed close together, while Alex whispered, “I have to go, but text me when you get home…or…just anytime you want to text me. Even if I don’t respond.”

“I will.” Maggie stroked a hand down her arm, smiling up at her, and said, “Bring me back some nylons and a chocolate bar. Or at least a good bottle of Scotch.” 

Alex nodded, feeling her throat tighten, and heard Kara call out her name. She pressed her hand into Maggie’s cheek, kissed her one last time, and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

She grabbed her helmet off the back of the bike and tucked it under her arm, striding across the pavement toward Kara, who met her halfway, her brow crinkling. “You sure Maggie will be okay out here?”

Alex glanced back at Maggie, who was still standing beside her bike, one hand braced on the handlebars as she watched Alex walk away. She lifted a hand, smiling, and even in the shadowed light, Alex could see those dimples like beacons guiding her home. 

“She will,” Alex said as Kara wrapped an arm around her, securing her for takeoff. “But the aliens who interrupted our date are in for the ass kicking of their lives.”

“I hear you,” Kara said. There was a rush of noise, a whoosh of air, and suddenly Alex was weightless, gliding over the world with only her sister’s arms between her and a thousand foot fall. At any other time she would have loved it, loved the feel of gliding weightless through the open air with the stars so close that it felt like she could touch them. Yet all she could think of as the world dropped away was Maggie standing in a pool of light, waiting for her to come home.

She glanced back once, hoping she could still see Maggie in the distance.

But by the time she turned her head, they were already too far gone. 

 

\---------------

 

It was 6 p.m. on Tuesday before Alex touched U.S. soil again. She’d spent a good chunk of those three days trapped inside a giant alien straight out of _Return of the Jedi_ , and if it hadn’t been for Supergirl, she, J’onn, and Lucy would have all gone the way of Boba Fett —or so Winn had informed her, on at least three occasions, while she stood there in slime up to her ankles and hoped her boots could withstand the acid eating through them.

So she hadn’t had much of a chance to think about getting in touch with Maggie — hadn’t had chance to think about much of anything except sleep, to be honest — when she finally made it back to her apartment sometime around 8 p.m. She could have just slept at the DEO — she’d crashed in the medbay on more than one occasion, and J’onn certainly wouldn’t have minded — but she knew if she stayed she’d only end up in her lab, and J’onn had made it clear that she needed to take a break. So it was with some relief that she set off on the short walk to her apartment, the brisk night air helping her wind down after three adrenaline-fueled days of playing chess against an opponent that was bigger, stronger, and far less susceptible to bullets than she or the rest of her team. She was still ruminating on the op — on what she could have done better, smarter, or with less risk of being digested slowly — when she came off the elevator and saw Maggie sitting with her back against her apartment door.

“Hey,” Alex said, stuttering to a halt. She heard the elevator ding behind her and moved forward, hearing the door slide shut as she moved out of its way.

“Hey yourself,” Maggie said, giving her a bright, welcoming smile. She’d been playing with her phone — Alex was pretty sure she kept _Tetris_ on it, though she’d never been able to confirm this suspicion — and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans, one hand wrapping around the handle of the small cooler sitting beside her. “I heard this rumor that you might be back tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex drew closer to the door and just stared at it for a moment, trying to remember how to get inside. Eventually she realized that she would need her keys and fished them out, holding out her other hand to pull Maggie to her feet. “Who told you that?”

“Your sister stopped by the precinct a few hours ago,” Maggie said, sliding to her feet with such innate fluidity that Alex couldn’t help but wonder if she could have gotten there without any help at all. She put a hand on Alex’s waist, pulling her close, and murmured, “She said you’d be home around now.”

“She’s smart like that,” Alex said, silently blessing Kara for her thoughtfulness in letting Maggie know she was okay while Alex was still stuck on radio silence. She felt guilty that she hadn’t done it herself the second she got back, but she was dead on her feet. Lucky for her, Maggie seemed to get this, for her kiss of greeting was devoid of anything that might have felt like insistence or demand. Just warm, and safe, and oh so needed. 

“Kara didn’t tell me much, except that it had been a rough couple of days,” Maggie said, and there was that thumb again, sweeping the length of Alex’s jawline in an intimate caress that sent warmth flowing throughout Alex’s body. “So I figured I’d swing by with some dinner, since I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything but field rations since that burger on Saturday.”

“You’d be right about that,” Alex said, pressing her cheek into Maggie’s hand. She closed her eyes, simply breathing in Maggie’s nearness, and wished she had the energy to appreciate this kindness as fully as it deserved. But she was running on three hours of sleep on the C-130 on the way to the op, perhaps another four on the way back, and in between was hazy at best, full of bad coffee and cat naps and the occasional moments of full-on terror that made closing her eyes more of a theoretical concept than an actual fact. So she was grateful for Maggie guiding her key into the lock, grateful for the feel of Maggie’s arms drawing her through the door and the strength of her body and the scent of —was that shampoo or was that just her because dear God, it smelled like heaven — and then they were inside, and the door was shut, and Maggie was flipping on lights and slipping off her jacket and setting that cooler on the counter with an assurance that made Alex feel more at home than she had in she wasn’t sure how long. And she just stood there, feeling slightly marooned in her own body, and tried to wrap her brain around the fact that she didn’t have to be on her feet anymore.

Maggie turned toward Alex and caught at the lapels of her jacket, drawing her down into a soft kiss. Then she slid her hands to Alex’s shoulders and began to pull the jacket off, saying, “Babe, why don’t you go take a shower while I warm up dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Alex said, though her mind was spinning because Maggie had just called her _Babe_ and it made her feel warm inside, warm like the sweet, slow slide of Scotch through her veins. In spite of her exhaustion she wanted her, wanted to pick up where they had started, to veer toward the couch and move past no shirts to no bras and maybe no pants and maybe, maybe just end up in her big California King like they’d planned before life in the form of one pissed off alien marauding through the jungles of Costa Rica and his omnivorous, room-sized sidekick had intervened.

But Maggie just pulled her closer, sliding a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, and murmured, “I missed you, Danvers.” She drew back and pinned Alex with her gaze, giving her a case of the full dimples as if she knew exactly how much they made Alex weak in the knees. “Now get your ass into that shower and into some comfy clothes before my grandmother’s _arroz com galinha_ turns to mush.” 

“Wait…” Alex said, her brain stuttering to a sudden, near-fatal halt. “You…cooked for me?”

“It’s not that hard, Danvers, but yes,” Maggie said, arching an eyebrow. “It’s just chicken and rice. I need twenty minutes and a frying pan and we’re good to go.” She paused, her brow furrowing, and added, “You wouldn’t happen to have any white wine, would you?”

Alex waved her toward the wine rack near the door and back-stepped toward the bathroom, nearly tripping over the couch in the process. She kicked off her boots and grabbed the first comfortable clothes she could lay her hands on, then retreated into the bathroom, spending the next ten minutes beneath a blessedly hot stream of water.

When she emerged a little while later, there was music playing, the song — _was that Portuguese?_ — reminding her of tropical breezes and warm summer nights. Maggie was singing along to it under her breath as she moved around the kitchen, pausing occasionally to sip from a glass of wine while, all the while, the scent of spices wafted in the air. The whole thing was so unbearably sexy that Alex couldn’t do much but lean against the doorjamb and watch, wondering how the hell she had gotten so lucky.

Eventually Maggie caught sight of Alex out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at her from across the room, her whole face lighting up with the gesture. “Better?”

“So much better.” Alex brushed a hand through her wet, tangled hair and walked over to the kitchen counter, struggling to believe that chicken, rice, and mushrooms could smell that good. “When you said you knew how to cook, you weren’t kidding.”

“It’s my _Avó_ Rafaela’s recipe,” Maggie said, tucking a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “My dad’s mom. She was from Brazil, and she taught me how to make this before she died.” She turned the music off then, pouring another, conspicuously small glass of wine and pushing it in Alex’s direction. “Cute jammies, Danvers.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, blushing. She glanced down at the gray pants topped with her favorite dark blue Henley and added, “Pretty sure you’ve seen these before.” 

“I know. But they’re still cute.” Maggie turned back to the stove, picking up the spatula and digging down to scrape a layer of crisp browned rice off the bottom of the frying pan. She studied the pan for a moment, then turned toward Alex, nudging the rolled-up sleeves of her white, button-down shirt closer to her elbows. “Plates?”

Alex pointed toward the overhead cupboard and turned toward the silverware drawer, collecting knives, forks, and napkins before carrying them to the table. Maggie, meanwhile, had spooned the rice and chicken mixture onto two plates and brought them over, setting Alex’s before her with a flourish. She sat down in the chair angled across from Alex’s and said, “Don’t be shy, Danvers. Just dig in.” 

Alex broke off a piece of the chicken and scooped a bit of rice around it, pulling in some of the crispy bits that Maggie had so carefully mixed in before taking a bite. She found herself completely unprepared for the explosion of flavors that burst across her tongue, and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening as she looked at Maggie. “Oh, my God. That’s amazing.”

A slow smile spread across Maggie’s face, one that felt true, and deep, and more hopeful than anything Alex had ever seen from her, expect maybe for that moment right before they’d kissed for the second time. “You like it?” she asked, her voice a little breathless. 

“Oh, my God,” Alex just said again, and took another bite. 

“Thanks,” Maggie said, a surprising shyness in her eyes. She lifted her glass, taking a sip of her wine, and nodded for Alex to keep eating. “Grandma Rafa would be so happy.”

“It sounds like you loved her a lot,” Alex said, her hand drifting over to rest against Maggie’s thigh. She saw Maggie’s mouth twist, felt more than saw something darken in her eyes.

“She died when I was thirteen,” Maggie said, and though her gaze was distant, Alex sensed that there was deep feeling hidden beneath it. “I think she…got me.”

Alex's instincts went on full alert then, telling her that there was something important here, that Maggie would keep talking if only she asked the right question, but she was too tired, her brain too close to shutting down to put more than the most rudimentary thoughts together. So she simply nodded and took another bite, eating methodically until the food left her sated.

“That was amazing, but if I have one more forkful I’ll keel over,” she said at last, pushing her nearly empty plate away.

“That’s why I made enough that you’ll have leftovers for tomorrow.” Maggie picked up both their plates, carrying them toward the kitchen and scraping the remnants from both into the garbage disposal. “By the way, if you don’t have tomorrow off I’m going to arrest your boss for kidnapping.” 

Alex let out a soft, weary laugh, loving this protective streak in Maggie, one that, she was beginning to understand, could be counted on even in the darkest of circumstances. She felt warm at the thought of having it; hoped she never had to put it to the test. 

“My orders are to sleep until I can’t sleep anymore and then get back in to analyze the samples we took during the op,” she explained, finishing off her wine. “There are…a lot of samples.”

“Shocking.” Maggie hunted down a plastic carton and spooned the leftovers into it, then opened the dishwasher and loaded their plates. “Dear God, Danvers,” she said, giving Alex a pained look. “Do you even know how to load this thing?”

“It takes me a month to fill up, so I barely ever use it.” Alex pushed to her feet, feeling her knees twinge as too many days of constant movement caught up with her. “You know, I’m pretty sure that food did its work, because I’m going to be zonked out before much longer.” 

“Good.” Maggie closed the dishwasher and walked over, catching at Alex’s hand. “Couch or bed?”

 _Bed_ was Alex’s first instinct. But her brain was buzzing, and she couldn’t help but think that she would lie there, staring at the ceiling, her mind unable to unravel itself enough to sleep. So she murmured, “Couch,” hoping the mindless noise of the TV would drag her under. 

“Okay, come on,” Maggie said, leading the way. She snagged the remote from the top of the TV and settled onto the chaise lounge, toeing off her boots with practiced ease. Then she stretched her legs in front of her, patting her lap. “Come here.” 

But Alex just stood there for a moment, her mind trying to wrap itself around the idea of Maggie making herself so thoroughly at home. “Um…that’s my spot.”

“Oh yeah?” Maggie just smirked, dragging a pillow over to prop against her hip. “That’s cool. Now get over here.” 

And Alex realized she didn’t have the energy to fight about it, didn’t have the energy to do much of anything but slide onto the couch, curling on her side against Maggie’s hip with only the pillow between them. She felt Maggie pull the blanket down over her, felt a hand settle in her hair, fingertips slipping through the still-damp strands while Maggie flipped on the Apple TV. She brought up Netflix, quietly saying, “Okay, here’s where we really test our compatibility.” 

“Oh, God,” Alex breathed, for there was a lot of embarrassing ‘90s cheese on her queue, no question. “You have to understand, I watch most of the good shows over at Kara’s place.”

“Uh huh.” Maggie flipped through the ‘recently viewed,’ softly saying, _“American Horror Story, Penny Dreadful, Hemlock Grove…_ This is some dark ass shit, Danvers.”

“I know, but it’s the kind of stuff I can only watch when Kara’s not around,” Alex explained, glancing up in time to see Maggie’s understanding nod.

“Yeah that doesn’t quite seem her speed. And for the record, I like horror too, though maybe not tonight.” Maggie scrolled over to _Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_ and selected an episode midway through season two. “Pretty sure I’m at this one, but if you need to go back, tell me.” 

“It’s good,” Alex said, waving a hand at the TV, her consciousness already sliding down toward sleep, helped along by Maggie’s fingers scratching against her scalp and spine. She was all but there when a sudden jolt of adrenaline surged through her and she sat up halfway, murmuring, “Copy, J’onn. I’m moving in now.”

“You dreaming, Babe?” Maggie asked, and Alex felt Maggie’s fingers smooth against her brow, gently drawing her back down until her head was lying against the pillow once again. _Back in National City, back with Maggie,_ she thought, pulling herself out of the flashback of the hot, steaming confines of the Costa Rican jungles and into the reality of Jane Krakowski doing something hilarious on her TV.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stretching her arm up to wrap around the front of the pillow. Maggie caught at her hand, the touch grounding her, giving her distance from the fever dream that had been the last several days.

“Sorry for what?” Maggie asked, and there was no judgment in her voice, only affection, and perhaps something more — something that Alex sensed beneath the surface, though she wasn’t quite ready to think about it yet.

“That we — “ Alex gestured toward the bed. “We had plans, and I — “ She let out a frustrated puff of air. “I didn’t think our date was going to end three days later with me too tired to do anything but hallucinate.”

“It is what it is when we do what we do.” Maggie drew the blanket tighter around Alex’s shoulders, reaching up scratch at her scalp once again. “Besides, I think maybe it’s okay that we slowed things down.” 

“It is?” Alex rolled onto her back so she could look up at Maggie, wishing she had the energy to draw her into a slow, deep, toe-curling kiss. “Because I was…I mean, I really wanted…” She felt warmth run through her body, warmth both from Maggie’s nearness and her own reaction to it. “God, Sawyer, what you do to me.”

“Same,” Maggie said, and then leaned down, her lips lightly brushing over Alex’s. She stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, her breath soft and tinged with spices. “But even though I said life is short, I’ve got to trust that this is worth the wait.”

“You sure about that?” Alex asked, but Maggie just nodded, smiled against her lips, and then kissed her again. 

“So sure.” Maggie sat back up, settling more comfortably into the chaise, and slid one hand down to rest just over Alex’s heart. “Now go to sleep.”

But a thought had wormed into Alex’s brain, the sort of thought that, in her weariness, seemed like it needed to be addressed without delay. “Wait. What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Oh, I meant to mention that,” Maggie said, and Alex heard a hint of regret in her voice. “I thought I was going to be solo this year, so last month I signed up for double shifts all week so the people with families can have off.” 

“You’re not going home?” Alex asked, and thought she saw a muscle twitch in Maggie’s cheek. 

Maggie shook her head and glanced at the TV, a calm, almost detached expression on her face. “My parents usually go away for Christmas and it just doesn’t work out with me being here. So instead, I work a lot and rack up a bunch of overtime so I can pay for things like that motorcycle.” She looked down at Alex again, her eyes dark and unreadable. “What about you?”

“Kara and I go to Midvale,” Alex said, feeling a strange sort of disappointment at the idea that Maggie wouldn’t be with family — but even more so, that Maggie wouldn’t be with her. She caught at her hand, murmuring, “If you manage to get free, you’re more than welcome.”

“That’s so sweet.” Maggie smiled down at her, and then she leaned forward, brushing their lips together in a kiss that felt like a whisper across Alex’s skin. “How the hell did I end up with someone as sweet as you?”

“As I recall, it took you getting shot,” Alex replied with a soft laugh.

“Call me stubborn,” Maggie said, and then nudged Alex’s shoulder until she rolled onto her side again. “Now close those beautiful eyes before I have to carry you over to that big bed and put you in it myself.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Alex murmured, and got poked in the ribs for her trouble. “Hey now.”

“Just shush,” Maggie said, those long, oh-so-delicate fingers sliding through her hair, their rhythm far too strong to fight. “Time for Dreamland, okay?”

And Alex drew in a breath, and listened, and slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who prefer the immersive experience, here's what Maggie is listening to when she's in the kitchen.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4WLDrN_5k0


	5. Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A NSFW chapter about being NSFW.

The week before Christmas flew by. Between tracking Cadmus, running interference for James and Winn and their vigilante bullshit, and making sure she got her Christmas shopping done, Alex barely managed to get in a few hours with Maggie, though her girlfriend apparently having signed up for every available shift for the foreseeable future didn’t help matters. They did manage to get in a game of pool at the bar, followed by a make-out session in the alley, one that might have moved to one of their apartments if not for both their phones going off at the same time. They ended up at the scene of a break in at a chemical factory that Alex strongly suspected might have involved a Helgrammite, though J’onn made the call that, for now, the NCPD should take point on the case. 

“Thanks, Danvers,” Maggie said as Alex walked off the scene, giving her the slightest bit of a smirk. Two minutes later, Alex’s phone went off.

_Have I mentioned how fucking hot you look in those jeans?_

“We have got to get this over with,” Alex muttered, and headed home to a very cold shower.

\-------------

Christmas Eve found her back home in Midvale, frantically trying to arrange a delivery of Christmas dinner and a miniature tree to Maggie’s squad room, though Kara insisted she could simply sneak the whole thing onto Maggie’s desk without anyone noticing. 

“That’s actually kind of creepy,” Alex said, and continued to hold until, finally, she got an actual person on the line. Three hours later, she was rewarded with a text: 

_Danvers, you’re crazy, but everyone says thank you. Who knew Chinese for Christmas Eve dinner was a thing?_

And then, a minute later: 

_Holy fuck, you got me a Carli Lloyd jersey. You’re the best girlfriend ever. Also, how the hell did you sneak it in here with no one noticing? That’s kinda creepy._

And finally: 

_Can’t wait to give you your thank you in person._

The whole thing made Alex beam in ways she hadn’t thought possible, at least not until the next morning, when Kara pulled a thin, small package from under the tree and handed it to her, saying, “Santa asked me to make sure you got this.” 

Alex shook the long, narrow box, then carefully tore away the wrapping paper — dancing polar bears, which seemed just the sort of paper Maggie would choose — and found a note inside, saying, “Bet you’ll look cute in these too.” 

And Alex had never cried so hard over a new pair of pajamas in her entire life.

\----

She drove back to National City on the 27th and was back at work on the 28th, but it took until the 29th to get their schedules to cooperate long enough that she and Maggie could see each other. Or more accurately, it took Alex manufacturing a reason to visit the NCPD at lunchtime — to consult on the chemical factory break in and whether the Helgrammite might have been involved, to be exact — though she brought sandwiches too. 

“You have time to eat while we talk?” she asked, after flashing her FBI badge and getting an escort into the bullpen.

“I can make time,” Maggie said, her mouth twisting sideways in a playful smile. She was rocking a blue-striped button down shirt and those extra tight jeans that made her ass look like quarters could bounce off of it, and Alex was having a hard time trying not to stare. It was entirely unprofessional, especially considering she was in Maggie’s workplace.

And yet.

“This way,” Maggie said, grabbing her black jacket and pulling it on. They walked toward the back entrance to the building, the courtyard of which had an easy walking path that led to National City Central Park. But when they got there, a light drizzle had begun to fall.

“Well, that sucks,” Alex said, frowning up at the low-hanging rain clouds, which hadn’t been such an issue in National City before this year. “You have a break room?”

“The last place I want to take you is there.” Maggie stared outside for a moment, chewing the inside of her lower lip like she did when she was puzzling something out, and then tilted her head to the side, smiling. “Danvers, you didn’t happen to bring one of those shiny black SUVs, did you?”

She had, in fact, and something about the look on Maggie’s face made a knot of apprehensive excitement curl up in the pit of Alex’s stomach as Maggie guided them back through the heart of the NCPD, her “I’m fucking taking lunch, McConnell, deal with it,” when her partner tried to waylay her the only thing slowing their fast, clipped walk. Eventually they reached the third level of the parking structure and the quiet corner where Alex had parked the DEO SUV, the giant black behemoth of a vehicle stretching to the very edges of the space.

“Where to?” Alex asked, unlocking the vehicle.

“Here,” Maggie said, and pulled open the backside driver’s door. 

She climbed in, and Alex paused, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before she too slid inside. The moment the door was shut, Maggie said, “Lock it,” her voice rough with the command.

Alex hit the auto lock, asking, “Maggie, what…”

The next thing she knew she was all but being tackled, her shoulders slamming against the seat while the sandwiches in her hand went flying. She let out a gasp that quickly turned into a whimper as Maggie’s tongue slid over her lower lip, her hands fisting in Alex’s leather jacket as she drew her in closer. 

“Jesus Christ, I missed you,” Maggie breathed, drawing back enough that she could look into Alex’s eyes. She lifted her hands to stroke the back of Alex’s neck, her fingers firm yet gentle in their pressure, and asked, “There are no cameras active in here, right? No recording devices?”

“We’re clear,” Alex murmured, her hands sliding to Maggie’s waist beneath her jacket. “Just you, me, and a lunch that I’m guessing we’re not going to eat.”

“Good guess.” Maggie slid her hands inside the shoulders of Alex’s jacket, nudging her forward so she could slide it off her arms. “And I’m glad to hear we’re bug free, because the last thing I want is that tech nerd of yours eavesdropping on this.”

Alex had a split-second to imagine the look on Winn’s face if that had indeed happened, but only that much time, for the next thing she knew Maggie was peeling off her own jacket and tossing it behind her. She pushed up on one knee, pivoting over Alex as she twisted until she landed, in a fluid motion that left Alex agape, with her knees on either side of Alex’s legs. _‘Straddling’ is the word,_ Alex’s brain supplied helpfully. _In the backseat of a government-issued SUV._

_Our U.S. tax dollars at work._

“What’s so funny?” Maggie asked, smiling down from her slightly elevated perch. Alex liked the reversal of their usual height difference — liked everything about this, in fact. The blacked out windows gave them all the privacy they needed, the backseat was more than big enough, and Maggie — well, Maggie had a light in her eyes unlike anything Alex had ever seen, and it had been so very long since she had done anything this brave with anyone, and certainly never with someone who made her feel as safe and protected as Maggie did. And so she resolved to let go of her inhibitions and enjoy whatever happened next, especially as she was fairly certain that neither of them intended for their first time to happen in the back of a car. 

Maggie, it seemed, was more than good with that, for she was tugging at Alex’s shirt, drawing it out of her jeans so that she could slide her hands beneath the hem and up the sides of Alex’s ribs. Maggie’s fingers, slightly chilled from the open air of the parking garage, slid upward, tracing all the way to the sides of Alex’s bra, and Alex couldn’t help but suck in a startled breath. “Shit, your fingers are like ice.” 

“Sorry.” Maggie let out a soft laugh. “You need the heater on?”

“No, I think you’ll warm me up soon enough.” Alex wrapped her arms around Maggie’s waist, drawing her in closer. “I hated you not being there for Christmas.” 

“Working all those doubles turned out to be a shitty idea, even if it did mean enough money to pay off the bike.” Maggie threaded her fingers through Alex’s hair, pulling back long enough to look at her. “You had a good time with your family, right?”

“Yeah, it was great, which isn’t something I usually say about family holidays,” Alex said. “Plus, I got in a few good walks by the ocean and thought about…” 

She felt heat bloom across her cheeks as she suddenly realized that she didn’t want to admit just what she had been thinking about. But Maggie seemed to sense it, for her smile broadened, a gleam coming into her eyes. 

“Danvers, you pervert,” she teased, drawing Alex into a long, slow kiss, one that was very thorough in its exploration of Alex’s mouth. “Did you think about me when you were cuddled up in your childhood bed?” 

“Not exactly the best place for that,” Alex said, avoiding explaining that her sister’s super hearing had made masturbation pretty much a no-go in the Midvale house since Alex had even known what it was. “The walls are pretty thin, for starters.” 

“Too bad.” Maggie eased herself forward, her mouth pressing against Alex’s ear. “Because I sure as hell thought of you.”

“Fuck,” Alex hissed, her hands tugging Maggie’s shirt upward until it was free of those tight jeans. She heard Maggie chuckle softly, the sound cutting off abruptly as Alex slid her hands up Maggie’s washboard abs, splaying them around her ribs so that her fingers could trace that sturdy ridge of muscle. Maggie dragged in a gasp and shifted against her, her hands tugging at Alex’s turquoise-colored v-neck until Alex felt compelled to lift her arms and let it be drawn over her head.

Maggie brushed Alex’s hair away from her eyes and looked down at her, a slow, sideways smile spreading across her face. “Hi,” she murmured, and lowered her head to press against Alex’s right shoulder. She kissed over to her neck, her hands running down Alex’s arms before drawing them forward until Alex’s hands were resting atop Maggie’s shoulders. “Unbutton me?”

“I think I can handle it,” Alex said, but her fingers were trembling, and after the first two Maggie took over, her long fingers making short work of them with a few deft twists. 

“Not that I don’t believe, you, Danvers, but this is my ‘testifying in court’ shirt, and I really don’t want you wrecking it.” Maggie eased her arms over Alex’s shoulders, scratching the back of her neck lightly while the shirt dangled open, giving Alex the sort of view that she had, in fact, dreamed about during those long, lonely nights in Midvale. She lifted her head to look up at Maggie, saw her smile in the gray light of the darkened SUV. “You okay if we go a little further?”

Alex nodded, even though she was already finding it hard to breathe, as if the oxygen around her was gradually being depleted by the heat that seemed to linger, just on the verge of combustion, in the air between them. She yielded as Maggie drew her mouth up in a kiss, those sublime, delicate hands drawing her face forward before skimming down her neck and chest to press against her breasts atop her bra. Then they were tracing the edges of the lace and cotton; finding the hooks, pulling them free. Alex felt the straps ease off her shoulders, sliding down her arms, and lifted her hands from Maggie’s waist, feeling her breath let out in a rush as Maggie tugged the bra over her hands and tossed it aside.

Alex eased back in the seat, shivering as the cool leather sent a chill down her spine. _Involuntary somatic motor response,_ her brain supplied, though not helpfully, because at the moment she really didn’t give a damn why it was happening so long as she still had Maggie in her lap. 

But Maggie must have noticed, for she murmured, “You really are cold, aren’t you?” and slid her shirt off her shoulders, tucking it between Alex and the seat.

Maggie’s kindness left Alex with an even better view than she’d had before, and she traced her thumbs up her girlfriend’s abs, watching the muscles twitch and shudder under her touch. She looked up at her, smiling. “God, you’re beautiful.” 

“So are you.” Maggie pressed her hands to Alex’s shoulders, tracing down across her collarbone, her eyes glinting in the gray light as she moved, oh so slowly, to skim over Alex’s chest, her side ribs, and then, very gently, to cup first one breast, then the other, within the palms of her hands. Her thumbs were almost reverent as they traced over Alex’s skin, coming to rest at last over her nipples before easing into them with the slightest bit of pressure. Alex squirmed beneath her, her jeans suddenly far too tight, and Maggie smiled, continuing to rub the sensitive skin until it reached a hard peak. 

“Go on,” she said, her words a soft hiss in Alex’s ear. “I want your hands on me too.”

“Did you really just steal a line from _Titanic_?” Alex asked, though even as she said it, she realized it was one hell of a line, for her body had reacted immediately, her hips jumping, back arching to press her breasts more firmly into Maggie’s hands.

“Only if it worked,” Maggie said, and tilted her forehead against Alex’s, smiling. 

“Oh, it worked,” Alex said, and slid her hands along the sides of Maggie’s ribs. Her hand detected a slight roughness between the third and fourth rib on the right, perhaps the remnant of some old scar incurred in the line of duty, and she made a note to ask about it later. But now was not the time, for her fingers were moving upward, easing over the black lycra — _Body by Victoria_ , if she wasn’t mistaken — and tracing back toward the center of Maggie’s back. She found the clasp, fumbling at it for a moment before first one, then the second hook came free. She felt Maggie shift under her hands, the dark curtain of her hair falling forward as she shrugged the straps off her shoulders. And then…

Alex’s brain checked out for a moment, overwhelmed by the reality of Maggie’s breasts spilling forward to rest against her own chest. She looked up and saw Maggie tilt her head to one side, effortlessly tucking her hair behind her ear before she brought their mouths together in a hot, hungry, open-mouthed kiss, the kind of mind-blowing, soul-igniting connection that Alex had imagined her entire life but never truly experienced. She panted against Maggie’s lips as it ended, her body breaking out in goose bumps as she felt a trickle of wetness slip from her. Her need for Maggie was just about overwhelming, and suddenly she understood why Kate Winslet saying _Put your hands on me_ had made all of her childhood friends swoon.

“Alex,” Maggie said softly, and Alex looked up, breaking out of her reverie long enough to see Maggie looking down at her, that waiting stillness that she was beginning to recognize as such a core quality in her girlfriend edged with just the tiniest bit of impatience. She clutched at Alex’s right hand, drawing it up and around until it hovered just over Maggie’s left breast, and Alex’s palm tingled, her body sensing the warmth, anticipating the softness of that skin. Her fingers twitched, and for an instant she felt panic, but then Maggie was drawing her forward, her eyes never leaving Alex’s face. 

“Please, Alex,” Maggie breathed.

And there was no way Alex could respond to that other than to do as asked, to cradle the warm weight of Maggie’s breast in her palm, her fingers tracing upward along the curve while her thumb slid, ever so slowly, across the nipple. She heard Maggie make a low noise, that same noise she’d made in Alex’s apartment a few weeks ago, and swallowed hard, her throat tightening at the thought that she might be causing even one quarter of the reaction that Maggie was generating in her. Then she lifted her left hand, locking it into place with just the slightest bit of guidance, and felt Maggie ease back, her neck arching as Alex’s hands grew more sure in their touch. 

Then Maggie curled forward, her forehead coming down to press against the crown of Alex’s head, the curtain of her hair falling down to block all but her golden skin from view. Alex’s eyes shifted upward, falling on the scar on Maggie’s right shoulder, the mark of it still livid though the stitches had been pulled nearly a week ago. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against it, wanting to kiss the pain of it away, the pain that had brought Maggie, by some miracle, to her. Maggie responded with that same low noise and leaned down, drawing Alex upward, and then they were kissing again, kissing with a kind of heat and fervor that Alex had never experienced before — like they were each other's breath, each other’s air. She shifted beneath Maggie, her hands sliding down to wrap firmly around her backside, pulling her in as close as she could, so close…

And suddenly Maggie let out a gasp and stiffened in Alex’s arms, her whole body shuddering as if she’d been hit with a low dose current.

For a moment, everything was still, so still that Alex could barely breathe. She felt Maggie let out a whimpering breath, felt her sag forward, her arms wrapping around Alex’s shoulders. Her face was pressed against the juncture between Alex’s throat and collarbone, while her lips — those beautiful lips — were nuzzling against Alex’s skin just above her jugular. 

“Hey,” Alex whispered, rubbing gentle circles against Maggie’s back. “You okay?”

“Fuck, Danvers,” Maggie hissed, her voice shaky. 

Alex pressed a kiss to Maggie’s temple, the instinct to comfort her overwhelming. And that’s when she realized just how tightly Maggie’s center was pressed against her thigh; almost as if she had...she had…

_Oh holy shit._

“Hey, um…” Alex said, her mouth suddenly dry as dust. “Did you…um…”

“Yes,” Maggie said, and burst out laughing. She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to Alex’s lips, smiling down at her, those eyes sparkling like she’d just won the lottery. “Congratulations, Danvers. You’ve managed to turn me into a sixteen year old again, in more ways than one.”

“Well that’s what you get for not paying attention in health class when the teacher gave the lecture about tight blue jeans,” Alex said, feeling inordinately proud, and Maggie collapsed against her, the both of them giggling until tears streamed down their faces.

“Oh, God,” Maggie said, brushing the tears off her cheeks, and leaned in to kiss Alex again. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?”

“All I know for sure is how much I want to make you happy,” Alex said, and Maggie beamed at her, looking for all the world like a kid on Christmas morning.

Just then a phone alert went off, one that Alex recognized as Maggie’s text tone. Maggie wrinkled her nose and dug her phone out of her back pocket, squinting at it for a moment. “Oh, hell. I have to get back.”

“The Helgrammite?” Alex asked, brushing Maggie’s tangled hair away from her face.

“No, just McConnell being a pain in my ass.” Maggie set her phone aside and pressed her hands to either side of Alex’s face, kissing her gently. “You know, the last thing I want to do is rush this, but I’ve got just enough time to return the favor if you don’t mind quick.” 

Alex thought about that for a moment — about the ache that ran from her center all the way to the tips of her fingertips, and ache that would probably distract her for the rest of the day. But as much as she wanted to ease the tension, a quickie just wasn’t what she had envisioned for the first time Maggie touched her. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to, because trust me, I do,” Alex said, and felt Maggie shift against Alex as if she too felt a glimmer of the intensity that was churning inside her at the words. “But I think I’d rather wait so that it can be…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Slow?” Maggie asked, in that low rasp that Alex was fast beginning to associate with being turned on out of her mind. “Thorough? Mind-blowing?” 

“All of the above,” Alex said, and Maggie smiled down at her. Then she was kissing her again, kissing her slowly, but with unmistakable intention.

“Oh, Babe, trust me. I’m gonna torture you so sweet,” Maggie breathed, drawing Alex’s head down to rest against her chest. She kissed the crown of her head, adding, “In fact, I managed to swing New Year’s Eve off, as well as New Year’s itself until noon, so if you don’t have plans…”

“I don’t,” Alex said, her head shooting up so fast that she nearly clipped Maggie’s chin in the process. “I mean, unless some idiot alien decides to go on a rampage.”

“Please don’t tempt fate like that,” Maggie said with a chuckle, covering Alex’s mouth with a kiss. Then she sat back on her heels, groaning. “Oh hell. That’s going to be one long, awkward walk back into the squad room.”

“Beginners’ luck, I guess?” Alex shrugged, feeling guilt wash over her at the idea of Maggie feeling uncomfortable the rest of the day. “Sorry about that. I should have been more careful.”

“Are you kidding me?” Maggie caught at Alex’s chin, drawing her face upward so she could fix her with those sparkling, oh-so-determined eyes. “Babe, you don’t ever have to apologize for making me feel that good. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alex smirked, and leaned forward to capture those beautiful lips once again. “I will definitely keep that in mind.”

They set about putting themselves back together, though Alex’s makeup was a mess and Maggie’s shirt was wrinkled past all recovery. She pulled her jacket over it, lingering with a slow smile on her face while Alex insisted on finger combing her hair as best she could. “I’ll call you tonight,” Maggie said with a last, tender kiss before climbing out of the SUV.

“What about the Helgrammite?” Alex asked as she followed, her boots clattering against the dirty concrete.

“Nothing new, probably a dead end,” Maggie tossed over her shoulder. She turned around, smiling, and added, “Thanks for the sandwich, Danvers!” before peeling off toward the elevators.

“Oh yeah, that,” Alex said, hearing her stomach growl. She grabbed her own sandwich, now half-flattened from when one of them had apparently stepped on it, and climbed back into the driver’s seat, her skin still burning with the memory of Maggie’s breasts against her own.

“New Year’s Eve,” she said, and tried to remember how to put the SUV into gear.

But just like most plans they made, it wasn’t meant to be. For at 5 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, Maggie caught the worst case of her career. 

And it was all Alex’s fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always remember...comments are love.


	6. Seven Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author note 1: I’m averse to spoiling my own fic, so please check the end notes if you have any concerns regarding triggers. There is violence in this piece and I will be thorough in outlining just what kind there. Please consider this fair warning.
> 
> Author note 2: I’m putting M’gann behind the bar in this because I prefer her to that snot Darla (who slept with both Maggie and Mon-El – ewwwwwwwww), and also because the idea of M’gann being in containment without due process for two months because J’onn is prejudiced against White Martians makes me vaguely sick to my stomach.
> 
> Author note 3: Yes, we have a series title now. And yes, this means that after this one, there will be more. Fasten your seatbelts, kids.

The call came in around 4:30 on New Year’s Eve, just as Alex was getting ready to duck out of the DEO to get ready for her date with Maggie. An alert had come through about an Infernian they’d been tracking for months wandering the streets of National City, his hands bruised and bloody. J’onn had ordered two DEO strike teams be dispatched, one to take him down, the other to create a perimeter to contain him, with Alex in charge of the first team.

“Guess this means no New Year’s Eve for us,” Winn whined as everyone swung into action.

“Only if you consider saving your fellow citizens unworthy of celebration, Agent Schott,” J’onn said, quelling Winn with a glance. “Alex, have you talked to your contact at the NCPD?”

“Detective Sawyer?” Alex asked, her finger already hovering over Maggie’s contact in her phone. She wondered if the request was a coincidence or if J’onn had simply sensed that the detective was on her mind.

“Yes,” J’onn said, with a crisp nod that gave nothing away. “Our last update on the target indicates he has a girlfriend in National City. It’s possible she may know something about his motives or possible plans. Perhaps our friends at the NCPD could check it out?”

Alex nodded. “Winn, send me the info. I’ll call on the way.”

By the time she had geared up and climbed into the front seat of the SUV, Winn had uploaded the address to her phone. She dialed Maggie, bracing herself for the guilt she was about to feel over cancelling with such late notice.

“Danvers?” Maggie said, after picking up on the second ring. “Hey, I’m —“ She must have heard the sound of the SUV’s engine roaring through the phone, for she let out a sigh. “Shit. You’re out on a mission, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Alex clutched the handgrip just above the window, holding on for dear life as Vasquez weaved the vehicle through a slow-moving batch of cars. “I hate to do this to you, but we have a lead on the guy’s girlfriend. You think you could check it out for us?”

“Okay, but you’re buying after.” Maggie’s voice dropped low as she added, “Think you’ll be done by midnight?”

“God, I hope so.” Alex turned her face away from Vasquez, quietly saying, “Look, this guy’s an Infernian, so be careful, okay? We don’t think he’ll head back there, but just in case.”

“Got it. Text me the address and I’ll get over there right away.” Then, more softly, Maggie added, “And stay safe. Those bastards shoot fire from their hands, you know.”

“Yes, I remember. Talk soon.” Alex hung up and forwarded the information to Maggie’s phone. A moment later, she received a text in reply:

 _Got it. My team is headed out now,_ followed by both the alien and the ray gun emoji.

 _And you call me a nerd,_ Alex texted back, chuckling under her breath.

Just then Winn called in over the comms, notifying her that the Infernian had entered a crowded movie theater. “He might be aiming for a mass casualty attack,” he said, his voice filled with panic. “That place is packed to the gills.”

“No way this bastard is messing with _Rogue One_ before I get to see it,” Alex replied as Vasquez slammed the vehicle around a corner and jumped the sidewalk, heading straight for the multiplex’s front doors.

Her team deployed quickly, setting up a perimeter while Supergirl used her x-ray vision to locate the pissed off, flame-throwing alien. The next three hours were spent in a harried combination of hostage negotiation and all-out warfare that only ended when Supergirl knocked the Infernian through a movie screen.

“I liked the new part with Supergirl, but it was better the first time when we saw it in 3D,” Alex heard a kid chirp as she and Vasquez loaded their newly acquired prisoner into the back of the transport van. 

Alex glanced over at Kara, chuckling. “Guess you gave that audience something to remember.”

“And earned free movie passes for a year!” Kara grinned, before glancing around at the wreckage of the theater complex. “Not that we’ll be able to use them.”

Alex was just about to point out how awkward it would be if Kara Danvers tried to use Supergirl’s movie passes when she heard Winn’s voice in her ear. “Hey, um, Alex? We have a situation.”

“What’s up?” Alex asked, gesturing for Vasquez to finish securing the Infernian. “Do we need to check out another location?”

“No, it’s about the girlfriend’s apartment. NCPD’s already cleared the scene, but they found two bodies — a woman and a young boy. The Infernian — he —“ Winn trailed off, swallowing so hard that Alex could hear it through the comm. “It’s bad.”

Alex felt her stomach drop, the blood draining from her face. She glanced at the Infernian, who was staring off into space, still dazed from when Supergirl had sent him flying. His hands were shackled, but she could see that the knuckles were raw, so raw that blood trickled from the edges of the wounds. And it wasn’t from the fighting, she realized. It was from —

_A woman and a little boy. And Maggie had been first on scene._

_Oh God._

“Is the NCPD team okay?” she barked, and heard Winn draw in a startled breath.

“They’re fine, but the photos from the scene are ugly. It looks like the woman was burned to death, and the little boy — his head was — “ Winn paused and made a noise that sounded a lot like retching. Eventually he came back online, and she heard cracks in his voice, as if he was no longer the funny, whiny IT nerd she knew and liked to torture, but a broken, scared little boy. “Alex, it looks like he put the kid’s head through a wall.”

_Fuck._

“Send me the pictures,” she said through gritted teeth, staring down the Infernian with such intensity that even Vasquez had the grace to look afraid. Her stomach churned as she heard the text alert go off, and she dropped her eyes, forcing herself to look at the images that popped up on her screen. First of the mother, then of the son.

And then she almost threw up.

“Get him the fuck out of here before I beat him to death,” she barked at Vasquez, then turned away, walking several yards until she found a space, far from the lights and the noise, where she could breathe. She sucked in lungful after lungful of the cold night air, hoping the scent of car exhaust and the mist drawn in from the ocean breeze would be enough to clear her head. When she felt like she could talk without screaming, she called Maggie.

It went to voicemail.

“Come on,” she whispered, and called again. 

Before it could go through, she heard the whoosh that was Kara landing a few feet away. She turned toward her, seeing her sister’s forehead furrow, her cheeks tighten when she took in the worry Alex was unable to hide. “What’s wrong?” 

“He…” Alex shot a hard look at the van pulling away from the scene. “I asked Maggie to follow up at his girlfriend’s apartment. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but they found…they found…” She choked in a breath, not wanting to reveal to Kara what Maggie had walked into without warning. “And now I can’t get ahold of her.”

“It’s okay,” Kara said, wrapping her arms around Alex’s shoulders and pulling her in close. The warmth of her, the strength, was grounding, and Alex felt the tension in her start to ease, the fear subside, ever so slightly, at the feel of Kara’s hands pressed against her back. “Alex, it’s not your fault.”

Alex nodded her head, trying to pull herself together so that she could finish her job, because the faster she did that, the faster she could track down Maggie. “I need to close out the scene.”

“What you need is to make sure that Maggie is okay,” Kara said, drawing Alex deeper into her warmth. “Vasquez and I can wrap this up. You go find her.” 

Alex squeezed Kara tighter, so tight that even her steel-spined sister could feel it. “Thank you.”

Kara drew back, her eyes wet with tears. She gave Alex a reassuring nod, then backed up a few steps, taking off toward the sky. Alex didn’t even linger to watch her set down next to Vasquez; she just strode, as fast as she could, toward the nearest DEO SUV. 

“Collins, I need to get back,” she called out, and the agent in question immediately jumped into the driver’s seat. Alex took shotgun, calling Maggie on repeat while they sped back to the DEO. After five minutes she got frustrated with repeatedly bouncing to voicemail and switched to texts.

_Hey, I saw the pictures. Are you okay?_

_Maggie, I’m so sorry I put you in that position. If I had known you’d be heading into that I would have warned you._

_Would you please just let me know where you’re at?_

She got no answer, and by the time she got back to the DEO, she was close to frantic. Making her way into the control room, she reported in to J’onn while he supervised the Infernian’s transfer into containment, then headed back to Winn’s station in the control room. He took one look at her and realized that his night was not yet over. “What’s up?”

“Have you see any reports come through on the NCPD activity at the murder scene?” Alex asked, hiding behind her calm, cool Agent Danvers persona in an attempt to disguise how close she was to panic.

“They wrapped up about 45 minutes ago,” Winn said, his fingers flying over the keys. “Preliminary report was filed by…” He paused, looking up at Alex. “Isn’t that’s your friend?”

“Yeah.” Alex skimmed over the paperwork, admiring the meticulous way that Maggie had catalogued both the scene and the available evidence pending the crime lab’s findings. In some ways, it was all for nothing, because the Infernian would never see inside a court of law — but at least it justified his indefinite detention. 

Right now, however, she didn’t care about any of that — not even that niggling bit of doubt that always fluttered at the back of her mind when she really thought about how she spent the better part of her work life trampling on aliens’ civil rights —because she needed to find Maggie.

“Can you track a cellphone for me?” she asked, quickly rattling off the number.

“I’m on it,” Winn said, his hands once again moving at breakneck speed. His computer dinged within seconds, and he squinted at the map that had popped up on his screen. “Looks like it’s in a car on Locust, headed toward…”

“I know where it’s headed,” Alex said, not saying another word, simply walking straight to the arms locker to drop her gear. From there she made her way to the locker room, changing into the jeans and t-shirt she had worn into work that morning. She pulled on her jacket and tucked her Glock into the back of her jeans, then grabbed her motorcycle keys and headed out the door.

It only took a few minutes to get to the bar, and she parked deep in the alley, for she suspected she wouldn’t be picking her bike up until morning. Locking her helmet in place, she pocketed her keys and walked to the door, muttering the password through the grate. It was crowded inside; there was the usual group of regulars, but on top of that, there appeared to be an extra contingent of New Year’s revelers, all eager for a chance to meet an alien and get two for one wings before ten p.m. Alex peered through the haze, looking for a familiar sheen of dark hair, but she couldn’t spot it anywhere. Then she heard a voice calling her name.

“Hi,” she said, walking over the bar, where M’gann was serving out beers to frat boys as fast as she could pour. “Have you seen Maggie?”

“Her usual table.” M’gann pulled a bottle of water from beneath the bar and slid it toward Alex. “She’s not in a good place right now.”

Alex nodded, seeing something unsettling in M’gann’s eyes, as if the telepathic alien had been exposed to thoughts she wished she could unsee. “Do me a favor and call us a cab?”

M’gann nodded, her mouth quirking in a slight smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your bike tonight.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, and turned, shouldering her way through the frat boys while they whined and complained. Weaving her way through the noisy, half-drunk crowd, she eventually reached the table where Maggie was most likely to hold court when she was in the mood to drink and brood. Sure enough, she was there, her black hair shimmering against the back of her gray henley. 

“There you are,” Alex said as she neared the table. “I was worried about —“

She broke off as Maggie’s face came into view — or at least what she could see of Maggie’s face, for her girlfriend was hunched over, her elbows propped against the table while she stared down at a line of shot glasses. 

Seven of them, to be precise.

“Hey,” Alex said, stopping beside the table while she waited for Maggie to acknowledge her. When that didn’t happen, Alex settled onto the opposite barstool, setting the water bottle between them. “You having a party?”

“Party of one,” Maggie said, the thumb and forefinger of her left hand resting over the rim of the first shot glass. She glanced up at Alex, her dark eyes unfocused. “How’s it going, Danvers?”

“Caught the bad guy.” Alex leaned against the table, her instincts telling her that something was deeply wrong — something that went far deeper than an awful day at work. It wasn’t just the blank, barren expression in Maggie’s eyes or the withdrawn, almost sullen way she stared down at the table. It was her body language; the way her shoulders slumped, as if her vital, vibrant spirit had been beaten into submission. “What’s going on?”

“Found a couple of dead bodies,” Maggie said, and Alex heard it clearly then; the distinctive slur that said her girlfriend was either already drunk or well on the way to it. “Wasn’t pretty.”

“I know.” Alex watched Maggie slide the shot glass back and forth against the wood grain of the table, as if debating whether to lift it to her lips or send it skittering away like a hockey puck flying over ice. “That might be the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Just two more people I got to too late.” Maggie waved her hand over the row of shots. “One shot for every year of that little boy’s life seems like a fair tribute, don’t you think?”

 _Oh,_ Alex thought, and leaned over the table, drawing closer so she could be heard over the din. “Why don’t we go get something to eat instead.” 

“If I tried to eat right now I would throw up,” Maggie replied, her face tightening in revulsion. She stared down at the whisky in her shot glass before slowly lifting it, her hand more than a little unsteady. “Besides, who wants stale nachos when you have access to the Macallan that M’gann keeps behind the bar for special occasions?”

And Alex realized then that she had walked into some kind of ritual, one that had probably been enacted in this bar many times before. She remembered the day that Maggie had lost those three prisoners from Cadmus, for reasons that they still hadn’t quite been able to explain. There had been three shots in front of Maggie when Alex had found her that day. Today there were seven, in honor of the seven years that little boy had lived. And that meant —

_That I need to find a way to get Maggie out of here before she does something more self-destructive than anything I managed to do during my party days._

“We have just enough time to get in a food order before M’gann closes the kitchen,” Alex said, sensing that the battle would be lost the moment that first shot went down. “Or we could grab some takeout and head back to my place, or —“

“Alex.” Maggie stared daggers at her from across the table, the languor scrubbed from her voice, leaving only dark edges behind. “Last I checked you’re my girlfriend, not my babysitter.”

“I know that,” Alex said, swallowing down the urge to ask just how much Maggie had drunk before she even arrived at the bar. “But I know how awful walking into that crime scene must have been. So I’m here for you, whether you need to talk, or drink, or anything else. Just…” She reached across the table, holding out her hand. “Just let me be here for you, okay?”

Maggie nodded, something Alex couldn’t quite read flickering in her eyes. She looked down at the table, her attention focusing, once again, on the shot glass in her hand as she softly said, “The first thing was the smell. You don’t forget that, you know? The smell when someone’s been burned. I came through the door, and I saw her, and I tried not to throw up.” She closed her eyes, her head turning slightly to the side. “And then I saw that little boy.”

“There was no way to know,” Alex said, but Maggie seemed too lost in her own world to hear what she was saying. She touched the back of Maggie’s hand, feeling her flinch at the contact, and quietly said, “Maggie, please look at me.”

Maggie did then, and Alex saw horror in her eyes — a horror that she had sent Maggie into, without even a warning. She rocked back in her seat, the force of it landing like a blow.

And then Maggie brought the first shot to her lips and swallowed it down.

“His name was Manny, you know,” she said as she set the first glass down, her hand immediately reaching for the second. “Short for Manuel, of course. I don’t know what happened to his dad, but his mom must have loved him, because she had a whole shelf full of trophies and pictures and framed report cards right next to where we found her.”

Maggie drank the second shot while Alex watched, a plea for Maggie to slow down dying on her lips. But Maggie just shot her a quelling glance and reached for the third, lifting the glass to her nose and breathing in its scent as she said, “He had black, curly hair and brown eyes and his skin was just a little bit darker than mine. And his smile — God, his sweet little smile.”

She slammed back the third shot, swaying in her seat as the liquor went down, and Alex dared to hope that it would be enough, that Maggie would call it quits for the night. Instead, she squinted down at the fourth glass, raw determination in her eyes as she said, “I’m pretty sure his mom taught him how to read so that he’d have a head start when he got to school, because there were books all over the apartment. She must have really loved helping him read.” 

She drank the fourth shot, then glanced up at Alex as if seeking her permission to go on. And Alex wanted to act then, to intervene by taking the rest of the shots away and finding Maggie some food and bundling her into the back of a cab. But she couldn’t seem to do that; couldn’t seem to do anything but stare, to try not to flinch at the agony she saw reflected in her girlfriend’s eyes.

And so Maggie picked up the next shot, holding it in front of her. “Fast forward to age five, and he’s started school, and he’s learning how to ride a bike. And somewhere in there, Mom gets a new boyfriend. A boyfriend who’s a little different, but hey, he treats her nice — or at least he does until the first time he beats the living shit out of both of them.”

“Maggie,” Alex said then, her voice cracking on the name. 

But Maggie just shook her head and drank, her hand visibly shaking as she lowered the glass to the table. “So mom gets a restraining order, and that works for a while. But then he comes back, and there must be something about this dude, something she can’t quite let go of, because she lets him back in. She tells Manny it will be okay, that everything will be fine. That it’ll be different this time.” 

Maggie picked up shot number six, staring at it for a long time, and for an instant, Alex held out hope that she would set it aside. Instead, Maggie sucked in a trembling breath and brought it to her lips, her throat visibly contracting as she swallowed the alcohol down. She put the glass back on the table and looked over at Alex, blinking. “And it is different for a while. It’s different until he gets mad over something — maybe Manny left his Legos on the floor or his mom forgot to buy the right beer. Or maybe this guy was just in the mood to hurt someone. So he burned Manny’s mom alive, and when Manny tried to run away, he grabbed him and slammed his head against the wall. Over —“ She tapped the shot glass on the table. “And over —“ She tapped it again. “And over.”

She reached for the final shot, but before her fumbling fingers could grasp it, Alex pulled it away. She downed it, feeling the warm, smooth burn that only good Scotch could create sliding down her throat. She looked up at Maggie, licking the last drop off her lower lip, and quietly said, “It’s time to go.”

Maggie frowned and pressed her hand against the table, struggling to get her weight beneath her as if intent on striking out in search of more booze. But her arms failed her, nearly spilling her face-forward onto the hard wooden surface. She shook her head, mumbling, “Goddammit, Danvers. That was mine.”

“And you’ve had more than enough,” Alex said, walking around to Maggie’s side of the table and putting an arm around her shoulders. She guided Maggie away from the bar stool, holding her steady when her feet struggled to hit the ground, and pulled her jacket off the nearby chair. “Can you walk?”

“Of course. I’m…” Maggie tried to take a step, her knees wobbling, and nearly dropped to the ground. “Whoa.”

“’Whoa’ is right.” Alex threaded Maggie’s arms through her jacket and wrapped an arm around her waist, saying, “Just lean on me, okay?”

And then they were moving, Alex shunting aside the less observant revelers with an elbow to the side or a brusque, “Excuse me, coming through,” until she reached M’gann’s station. 

“Your cab is outside,” M’gann said, nodding in thanks when Alex dropped some cash on the bar. Her eyes weren’t on Alex, however, but on Maggie as they departed, and once again, Alex wondered what the telepath was picking up from her girlfriend’s mind. 

Then the cool, leaden night air hit them, and Maggie shook her head, rousing a little. “Where we goin’?”

“Someplace where you can sleep it off,” Alex said, grateful to see the cab’s taillights shimmering at the end of the alley. “Just a short walk first.”

“Iss cool, Danvers,” Maggie slurred, her feet not quite making solid contact with the pavement. “I got it, I do.”

“Sure you do,” Alex said as she led Maggie to the back of the cab. She guided Maggie into the backseat, slowly nudging her over until she could climb in too.

“Where to?” asked the driver, a middle-aged man with a thick Eastern European accent.

Alex took a long, hard look at him, making sure he looked safe and sober before she leaned over, shaking Maggie’s arm. “Maggie, what’s your address?”

Maggie didn’t respond — simply rolled into Alex’s shoulder, her hands curling into her chest. Alex drew her closer, brushing a lock of hair out of her face as she murmured, “All right. My place it is.”

She gave the driver her address, then leaned over and belted Maggie into the seat, cradling Maggie’s head against her shoulder as the cab lurched through the crowded streets. At one point Maggie jolted awake, and Alex tried to get her to drink some water, but Maggie then just mumbled something that sounded like “Voyager” and curled back into Alex’s chest.

At last they arrived outside Alex’s building. Alex tossed a twenty at the cabbie and roused Maggie, managing to get her back on her feet long enough to get out of the car. From there it was a stumbling walk into Alex’s building and up the elevator until, at last, they reached the eighth floor. Alex guided Maggie forward, propping her against the wall while she unlocked her apartment door. 

“You hanging in?” she asked, noticing that Maggie’s skin, normally such a beautiful shade of olive-toned brown, had turned a sickly gray-green.

“I don’t feel so…” Maggie swallowed and lurched forward, sweat breaking out on her forehead. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, I hoped that was coming,” Alex muttered, barreling through the door. She dragged Maggie through and kicked it shut behind her, half carrying her girlfriend through the darkened apartment. They got to the bathroom just in time, Maggie dropping hard to her knees while Alex did her best to get her aimed toward the toilet bowl and silently thanked God that she had cleaned it sometime in the last week. 

Things were very unpleasant for the next several minutes, as Maggie heaved a whole lot of expensive oak-aged Scotch straight into National City’s sewer system. Alex held Maggie’s hair and rubbed her back, pulling her jacket off during one brief respite and holding a damp washcloth to her forehead through another. “Just let it go,” she murmured, relieved that this was happening, if only to clear some of the alcohol from Maggie’s system. “I’ve got you.”

“Fuck,” Maggie moaned, resting her head against the toilet seat. 

Alex drew her back and helped her sit against the wall, wiping the damp cloth over her face. “Think you’re done?”

“Dunno.” Maggie closed her eyes and tilted her head against the wall, mumbling, “He was only seven.”

“I know.” Alex guided the water bottle into Maggie’s hand, making sure she had a firm grip on it before she let go. “Do yourself a favor and drink that while I find something for you to sleep in.”

She climbed to her feet and went into the bedroom, sorting through her t-shirt drawer until she found something loose enough to be comfortable, yet not so large that Maggie would drown in it. She settled on an old t-shirt from some bio-ethics conference that she had attended a few years back and carried it into the bathroom. “You think you can change by yourself?”

“I got it,” Maggie said, her hand groping for the shirt. She’d drunk most of the bottle of water, which eased Alex’s worries about alcohol poisoning. Now, her big concern was how to mitigate the brutal hangover that Maggie was facing when she woke in the morning. 

“You need something in your stomach,” Alex said, pressing a hand to Maggie’s cheek. “Crackers, maybe?”

“Crackers are good.” Maggie lolled her head against the wall, squinting at Alex. “You’re sweet, Danvers.”

“Yeah, just wait till tomorrow when I give you every kind of shit there is over this,” Alex replied, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s forehead. She tugged Maggie’s service revolver off her belt and got up again, saying, “Go on, get changed,” before standing up and heading into the outer room. 

Her first stop was to drop Maggie’s gun beside her own near the door, her second to pour a glass of water for herself. She drank it down while she hunted through the cupboards for the Saltines she kept stashed for moments like this — though usually, her goal was to stave off her own hangover, not someone else’s. At last she located the box, and she carried it and more water to the bedside table, setting it there for when she got Maggie settled. Then she returned to the bathroom, knocking on the half-open door. “Maggie? You good?”

She heard what sounded like a whimper and ducked inside, expecting to find Maggie hunched over the toilet again. Instead, she found her huddled against the wall, barelegged and shivering with her knees tucked against her chest. She was mumbling in Spanish, the words so ragged and choked with tears that Alex, with only two years of the language under her belt, could barely understand them.

_“Ya no me haga más daño ‘apá, ¡por favor! Voy a ir. Voy a ir…”_

“Maggie?” Alex said, dropping to her knees, but Maggie didn’t seem to notice she was there; she just kept repeating the words over and over, her shoulders shaking with the force of the tremors running through her frame. Her right hand was braced over the back of her thigh, as if guarding an injury from something — or someone. 

“It’s okay,” Alex said, catching at Maggie’s hand and drawing it away. She saw two scars on Maggie’s right leg — the first the clear remnant of a knife wound that looked as if it had gone deep into the meat of her thigh — but the second one wasn’t from that, wasn’t from anything that looked like it had happened on the job. No weapon Alex could think of would leave a faint red horizontal line, perhaps five inches above the knee — except maybe for a belt, which would mean that — 

_Oh fuck no._

The thought pinged through her brain and was gone just as quickly, for Maggie was sobbing now, the words spilling out of her at a speed near close to hysteria, and Alex couldn’t bear to do anything but pull her into her arms and whisper soft, soothing words. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

And with that she swung Maggie into her arms and carried her into the bedroom. It was easier than she had anticipated; for all her larger than life presence and wiry strength, Maggie was small, almost birdlike, and probably weighed barely more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. So it didn’t take much to get her to the half-made bed and slide her under the covers, to urge her over to the far side and roll her onto her stomach. After that Alex tucked her legs beneath her and simply sat, quietly stroking Maggie’s back and head until something let go, her trembling easing as she settled into the pillow and let out a soft, snuffling breath. 

“Alex?” she asked, her face hidden beneath that curtain of dark hair.

“Just sleep,” Alex said, brushing Maggie’s hair back from her face. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s temple, and smoothed a hand across her forehead. “I’m right here.”

Maggie nodded, mumbling something that was lost in the depths of the pillow, and sank deeper into the mattress while her breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Alex lingered a moment longer, then slipped away to brush her teeth, change into her own pajamas, and turn out the lights. She crept back into her bedroom, which was dark now save for the faint glow coming from outside her window, and slid under the covers, settling onto her back. Maggie’s presence beside her tugged at her like a beacon as her mind spun, swirling together all the night’s events in one huge, brain-buzzing cauldron of overload: Taking down the Infernian, little Manny and his mother, the dead look in Maggie’s eyes as she downed that last shot of Scotch. The scar on Maggie’s leg, and what Alex feared it might mean.

And Maggie in her bed, Maggie in her bed, Maggie in her bed.

Alex felt overwhelmed with the desire to simply hold Maggie, to draw her into her arms and stroke her hair and whisper to her that everything would be all right. But much as she wanted to, it didn’t seem fair to touch her now, even in the most innocent and comforting of ways. Better to let her sleep it off, then figure out where things stood in the morning.

So she wasn’t exactly prepared when, sometime later, she felt Maggie slither across the bed and curl into her side, nuzzling against her for a moment as if drawn to her warmth. Maggie mumbled something that might have been “Danvers” before settling in face down atop Alex’s shoulder, her left arm stretched over Alex’s stomach while her leg curled over Alex’s knee. And Alex couldn’t help the desire that shot through her then, an electric current that pulsed through every single point of contact, leaving behind bliss like she had never dared imagine.

“Best New Year’s ever, and it’s not even midnight yet,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against the soft, tangled hair at the crown of Maggie’s head. She ran her right hand over Maggie’s arm, letting it rest just over her elbow, and closed her eyes, willing the pain and the horror of the day to disappear in this sweet, quiet warmth. Time enough to deal with the darkness tomorrow; for now, there was this. 

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and drifted off to sleep. 

\------

When she woke in the morning, Maggie was gone, with only a note on the bedside table to confirm that she had actually been there.

_Danvers –_

_Based on how I’m feeling, I guess I lost my cool last night. I don’t remember much, but I do know you were there for me. I’m sorry our plans got ruined again._

_I have to work this afternoon, but I’ll call you as soon as I have time to sleep this off and regroup a little bit. Thanks for taking care of me._

_Sawyer_

_PS Sorry about the barf._

Alex laughed a little at the final line, though she couldn’t help worry when she knew Maggie was out on the job with what had to be a crushing hangover. She texted her to check in and got a _Feel like shit but that’s what Advil is for_ in response. Two days later they met up for pool, and Alex spent most of their four rounds gently nibbling at the edges of Maggie’s meltdown, but Maggie simply glossed over it, saying, “I ramble like a motherfucker when I’m drunk, Danvers. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” before sinking the three in the corner pocket.

And Alex didn’t push, because Maggie was tired, and Maggie looked hot in her t-shirt, and Maggie might actually have a chance at beating her at pool, which was simply not acceptable. Besides, it seemed a little intrusive to ask about something Alex shouldn’t have actually seen — and maybe there was an innocent explanation for the mark on Maggie’s leg, or at least one that didn’t involve some form of domestic abuse. 

So it took the better part of two months to put it together — until after the Valentine’s Day fiasco and Maggie’s ridiculously romantic recreation of the prom that neither of them had ever been able to enjoy as teenagers. Alex was at work a few days later when it hit her, and she stood up from her microscope, a quiet “Fuck me” slipping from her lips.

She brushed off her assistant’s worried look and made her way into the control room, where Vasquez was just coming on shift. “Could you translate something for me?” she asked, and repeated, to the best of her recollection, what Maggie had said that night.

And Vasquez, eyes troubled, had told her.

Alex tore around in a fury for the rest of the day, knocking so many agents flat during sparring that Vasquez had finally pulled her aside and said, “Ma’am, perhaps you should go shoot something instead.” So Alex had, heading off to the range for several hours of target practice with a foe that looked a lot like her mental picture of Maggie’s father. And with every shot, what echoed inside her ears was the sound of a fourteen year old Maggie Sawyer, bleeding from the sharp edge of her father’s own belt while she pleaded, “Don’t hurt me anymore, Papa. I’ll go. I’ll go.”

It took days to process it, days that Maggie spent looking at her sideways and asking, “What’s wrong?” until Alex made up some story about congressional oversight chapping her ass. She wanted to ask Maggie about it, but after all that had happened on Valentine’s Day she didn’t quite know how to do so. _Did your dad beat you up when he threw you out?_ seemed needlessly cruel, even though Alex was learning that with Maggie, direct confrontation was often the only way to get any information out of her. Where this one was concerned, the wall just seemed too high to scale, at least for right now. Better to do it in stages.

So Alex thought and she considered, waiting for the right moment to broach the subject, for Maggie to trust her enough to tell her that part of the story. It took time, but eventually she realized that the only way to reach that place was love — the love that young, newly out Maggie Sawyer had been denied, that no one had wanted to give her because she quite didn’t fit their notions of who she should be.

And so Alex loved as hard as she could, lavishing attention on that marred skin with her hands and her mouth, making sure Maggie knew it was beautiful, because everything about Maggie Sawyer was beautiful. She told her with her sighs and her smiles, with slow morning kisses and soft whispers deep in the night, until one day, the right words dawned on her, and she pulled Vasquez aside again, asking her to translate another phrase; not from Spanish this time, but from English. She practiced it for the rest of the day until she had it down cold, until J’onn looked at her and rumbled, “Alex, please think about something else, at least for one minute.” 

That night, after Maggie had fallen asleep in her arms, Alex pulled her in close, seeing in her both the woman she now was and the girl she used to be. She kissed Maggie’s temple and pressed her mouth close to her ear, saying the words she had practiced, hoping that somehow, Maggie could find within them the strength to heal. 

_“No voy a ir, Maggie Sawyer. Te juro que no voy a ir.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: child abuse, domestic violence, murder, violent death, binge drinking, Maggie’s evil bastard of a father
> 
> COMMENTS ARE LOVE AND I LIKE COMMENTS. (And by that I mean please tell me something specific you liked)


	7. Take Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author note: There was a time jump to around Valentine’s Day at the end of the last chapter because it was the only way to discuss certain incidents within the canon timeline. We are now back to the planned timeframe for this fic – it’s early January, just a few days after New Year’s and the main events of Chapter Six. Also, this chapter earns the Mature rating, so choose where you read it appropriately.

The first week of the New Year was hectic, especially with Cadmus tech ending up on the black market in the wake of Lillian Luthor’s arrest. So it felt strange, yet somehow very appropriate, that the only date night Alex and Maggie could schedule within the first two weeks of January was on a Monday. Alex spent that entire afternoon waiting for some crisis to interrupt her plans, but other than Kara being in a funk about the dearth of good super villains to go up against, none materialized. So with her sister’s blessing, Alex ducked out at a reasonable time and walked back to her apartment to change for her date.

She was debating which ‘sexy but sensible’ blouse she should wear when her phone rang, and when she saw the name that popped up, she felt her entire face split in a ridiculous grin. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Maggie sounded like she was outside, and Alex knew, immediately, that she was at a crime scene. “I’m running a little behind.”

“You need help?” Alex asked, grabbing the dark blue blouse simply because it was nearest to hand. “I could swing by before we eat.”

“No, I just have to wait for the lab guys to finish.” Maggie paused, and Alex could hear the hesitation in her tone as she said, “But it means we’re going to miss our reservation, and the restaurant doesn’t have a later one.”

“Story of our lives.” Alex buttoned up her blouse with one hand and walked into her closet, searching for the ankle high black boots that went best with her chosen pair of jeans. “We could find someplace else, or if it’s easier, I can just grab takeout from the Thai place down the street.”

“You don’t mind?” Maggie trailed off, and Alex could all but see the hesitant, cautiously hopeful look on her girlfriend’s face. “I wanted to take you out tonight.”

“I know, but I’m starving, and if given a choice between waiting two hours for food and Pad Thai closer to now, I’ll take the latter,” Alex said, and heard her stomach growl as if in agreement.

“The location is not as important as the food. I will file that away for future reference,” Maggie said with a soft laugh. It made Alex smile to hear it, for Maggie’s laughter had been hard to come by following the murder case she had caught on New Year’s Eve. Alex hadn’t realized just how dependent she had grown on the sound of it, whether it was the cynicism of the ‘seen it all’ cop or the joy that emanated off of her in her more unguarded moments. As life goals went, ‘making Maggie Sawyer laugh’ was getting to be high on the list.

“So it’s settled?” Alex asked. “I’ll call in an order and we’ll meet back here in…”

“Little over an hour,” Maggie said, her tone softening in relief. “You’re the best, Danvers. Oh and…red curry for me please.”

“Got it. See you soon.” Alex finished getting dressed and dusted on a light coating of makeup while she called in their order to the restaurant. It was a short walk from there down to the promenade where it was located, a walk that, Alex realized, she would have loved taking with Maggie. But there would be plenty of other nights for them to stroll hand in hand to dinner or a movie. With the little time they had available, it just made more sense to make this a takeout night.

As for other reasons to stick close to her apartment tonight, well — Alex was trying hard not to think about anything related to that. She just wanted to enjoy their time together, and if anything else happened, it happened.

But God, was she hoping that it happened sometime soon.

When she arrived back at her place, she caught sight of a black, unmarked police cruiser parked outside her building. Maggie was leaning against the side of the car, hands tucked in her pockets, with a bottle of wine stashed under one arm. She turned her head as Alex approached, her face splitting in a dimpled grin. “Danvers.”

“Sawyer.” Alex tucked the take out bag under one arm and walked over, leaning down for a quick kiss. “You got here sooner than expected.”

Maggie put a hand on Alex’s hip, drawing her in closer. “I told the crime scene guys to get it in gear because I didn’t want to keep my lady waiting.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” Alex said, and saw Maggie’s eyes dance at the memory. “Who knew someday you’d use it about me?”

“Must be fate.” A gust of wind blew up, and Maggie shivered beneath the layers of brown leather jacket and hoodie. “Speaking of waiting…did I mention I’m starving?”

“Once or twice.” Alex caught at Maggie’s hand, pulling her into the building. Once the elevator doors were closed Maggie turned toward her, pulling her down into a slow, deep kiss, the sort that made Alex tingle all the way from her forehead to the tips of her toes. She drew in a breath when they broke apart, asking, “What was that for?”

“Being a good sport about having to change our dinner plans.” Maggie smiled up at her, and Alex felt that tingle increase, turning into something that felt an awful lot like melting. “I really will make it up to you, I swear.”

“I don’t have any doubts.” Alex leaned down, tucking that stray, wild tendril of hair that was forever falling across Maggie’s face behind one ear before letting her hand linger to cup Maggie’s cheek. “We might be the only two people who could actually tolerate each other’s schedules.”

“True.” Maggie ran a hand down Alex’s arm, the gesture sending a shiver down Alex’s spine. “Though it would still be nice if whoever’s running things would cut us a small break.”

“I’ll put in a request.” The elevator dinged, and Alex stepped off it, her hand automatically sliding down to thread with Maggie’s as they walked toward her apartment door. Once inside, she carried the food to the kitchen counter while Maggie locked up and took off her jacket. She was wearing a gray v-necked t-shirt loosely tucked into her tight fitting jeans, and Alex’s mind flashed back to watching her play pool in it, her arm muscles lithe and smooth as she leaned in to take a shot. She smiled at the recollection; smiled more when Maggie tipped her head to the side and looked at her, arching one eyebrow.

“What’re you up to over there, Danvers?”

“Nothing,” Alex said, busying herself with finding forks and plates, though even she had to concede that it was a piss-poor cover for having been caught staring. “Just give me a minute to get organized.”

“You mind if I clean up?” Maggie asked, hiking a thumb toward the bathroom. “I came straight from the crime scene.”

“Of course.” Alex waited for Maggie to close the door behind her and then leaned against the counter, struggling to find a way to get her raging, college-level hormones back to some semblance of adult behavior. Her heart was fluttering, and every time she caught a glimpse of her bed out of the corner of her eye, it became difficult to catch her breath. She wondered if it would have been like this if they’d been able to go out to dinner as planned, or if it was just that they were here, in this more intimate space.

 _Or maybe it’s just time,_ she thought, her mouth going dry at the thought.

The bathroom door opened and Maggie stepped out, pivoting slightly as she paused to turn out the light. The grace of her in profile — small and slender, her dark hair shimmering with just a hint of red as the light glinted against it — was enough to make Alex shudder, and she made a point of focusing on the food as Maggie weaved around the couch and sat down at the counter. She pointed at one of the decorative candles that Kara had insisted Alex buy on their sole shopping expedition to decorate the apartment. “Are these just for show, or can I create some _Chez Danvers_ ambiance?”

“Go for it,” Alex said, pulling the takeout cartons out of the bag. “I’ll start the fireplace too.”

“I can do that,” Maggie said, and smiled at Alex in such a way that virtually every muscle between her thighs and lungs clenched in response. Her hands shook as she took the food out of the cartons and distributed it onto plates, popping each into the microwave for a brief reheat. Maggie, meanwhile, had opened the wine — an unoaked Chardonnay that, she said, paired best with Pad Thai — and poured them each a glass.

“But does it pair well with red curry?” Alex asked as they settled in at the table, its space illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight.

“Who cares so long as the curry’s hot enough to make you want to take your clothes off,” Maggie said, her voice low and throaty, and Alex felt a mouthful of noodles catch on the way down. She coughed, nearly choking, and lunged for the glass of water that Maggie shoved in her direction. She drank half, gasped for breath, and drank the rest, feeling the spices burrow deep into her soft tissue.

“Danvers? You okay over there?” Maggie asked, leaning around the corner of the table and placing a hand on Alex’s back. The touch was soothing, and Alex inhaled a deep lungful of air. She nodded once, glancing up at Maggie, and saw a sheepish look flit across her girlfriend’s face.

“That.” Alex paused, clearing her throat, her body still overwhelmed by nearly drowning in a sea of Pad Thai. Her voice felt like sandpaper, scraping raw across her throat as she tried again. “That was mean.”

“It was, I’m sorry.” Maggie traced her hand across Alex’s shoulder, slowly sliding down her arm. “You sure you’re okay?”

Alex drew in a raw, ragged breath and nodded, wiping a tear from her eye with one knuckle. “You’re very good at that, you know.”

“I do, and I promised myself that I would stop,” Maggie said, glancing down at the table. There was something sweet and adorable and almost shy about her earnest half-frown, and it made Alex want to kiss her senseless, runny nose and outraged sinuses be damned.

Then what Maggie had said hit her, and she dropped her fork onto her plate. “Wait, stop doing what? Flirting?”

Maggie stirred her fork through her curry and nodded, tilting her head to the side. Her jaw tightened, almost as if she was bracing herself for Alex’s reaction — for a rejection even.

“You know I love that, right?” Alex said, her voice still ragged, and full of something raw that she hadn’t quite intended to be there. Something that felt a lot like need.

Maggie looked up at her then, and Alex slid her foot forward until she could bump their knees against each other. She saw one corner of Maggie’s mouth curve upward and did it again, a little harder this time, leaving their legs firmly settled against each other.

“I do too,” Maggie said, pressing her knee a little harder against Alex’s. She folded one arm forward on the table and leaned forward, her dark eyes thoughtful. “I used to be…I guess you’ve probably figured this out by now, but I was…kind of a player.”

She tilted her head to the side, as if waiting for Alex’s reaction, and Alex simply nodded. It wasn’t a surprise, not after that first visit to the bar when it had become clear that an awful lot of the bar’s patrons, Darla included, had fallen prey to Maggie’s charms. _Not that I could blame them,_ she thought, her breath catching at the wonder that was Maggie Sawyer sitting across the table from her, mere steps from her bed.

“Dating has always been easy for me,” Maggie said, and though it was nothing to be ashamed of, Alex detected something slightly haunted in the detective’s eyes. “Staying in a relationship, not so much, but the dating part? The flirting? It’s just about keeping the mood light and making whoever I’m with feel good, because I want her to feel good.” She looked at right at Alex, and there was a question in her gaze. “I want you to feel good about this. About us.”

“I do,” Alex said, nodding not just once, but several times, trying to negate any doubts Maggie might have about her sincerity. “You’ve never made me feel anything but respected and like I…” She paused, softly adding, “Like I matter to you.”

Maggie’s gaze dropped toward the table, and then came that almost shy smile, one that Alex sensed was as much a part of Maggie as the bluster and bravado that had first caught her attention. She was just wondering what it would take for her to see more of it when Maggie blew her mind by saying, “The thing is…you make me nervous.”

“Wait, what?” Alex blurted, the thought of Maggie having the jitters stalling her brain so thoroughly that it took a good ten seconds for her to string together a coherent sentence. “I’ve never seen you be anything but completely cool.”

“For future reference, me showing up with pizza and beer is kind of a tell,” Maggie said, her eyes crinkling as she let out a laugh. “And yes, around you, I get really nervous. So I start falling back on the flirting and the teasing because…well…I guess because that’s easier than letting you see what I feel.” She paused, and this time there was no teasing in her voice as she quietly added, “What I want.”

Alex felt something coil in her stomach at those words, something warm and aching and vaguely overwhelming all at once. She shifted in her chair a little, then blushed as she realized that Maggie could sense the movement through their knees pressed against each other. She fought the instinct to drop her eyes, to look away, and asked, “And what is it that you want?”

Maggie just looked at her, and in those eyes, Alex caught glimpses of entire conversations that were yet to be had, of the infinite possibilities out of which lives were made. The thought that they might someday get there was both thrilling and terrifying, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

And all Alex wanted to do was jump.

“I want something real,” Maggie said, and Alex saw her lower lip tug inward just slightly, as if she was biting the inside of it to cover whatever stronger emotions might be bubbling inside. “Whatever this is, whatever it turns into. I want all of it to be real.”

“No games, no bullshit?” Alex asked, feeling her heart thud hard against her chest.

“No games, no bullshit. Just us.” Maggie tilted her head to the side, her mouth quirking in a tentative half-smile. “Is that okay with you?”

And all Alex could do was reach across the table, and take Maggie’s hand, and smile.

 

\-------------------

 

They didn’t talk much the rest of the way through dinner; it seemed like every time the conversation got going, one or the other of them would trail off and get caught staring. Every time Maggie did it, Alex seemed to have a mouthful of noodles, and she would blush and stammer and try to chew faster, and then Maggie would make a crack about how she couldn’t take Alex anywhere and they’d laugh until they both trailed off and then the cycle would start over again. Alex couldn’t get enough of Maggie by candlelight; her hair, her skin, her eyes, the way her hands moved as she lifted the fork to her lips, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, flicked her fingers to emphasize a point. She was poetry in motion, and Alex — well, Alex was simply drowning in the words.

When they’d both finished eating, Alex took charge of the leftovers and kitchen cleanup. “I can help,” Maggie said, but Alex simply kissed her and shooed her toward the couch, saying, “This will take two minutes, tops.”

She heard the bathroom door close a minute later, and by the time Maggie came out, the dishes were rinsed and stacked and the leftovers safely tucked into the refrigerator, where they would likely be forgotten until they dissolved into something unrecognizable. “I’ll just be a minute,” Alex said as she walked past Maggie, their fingers brushing as they passed, and then she was inside with the door closed, her hand shaking as she reached for her toothbrush. _Not that I’m making any assumptions,_ she thought as she brushed and rinsed. _But Thai food and making out don’t exactly mix._

Still, she paused to reorder her curls, to touch up her makeup and blow her nose and check to make sure she didn’t need any more deodorant. And then she was thirsty, so she drank some water and rinsed her mouth again, this time with mouthwash.

And then she told herself to stop fussing and just get back out there.

She emerged to an empty apartment. Maggie wasn’t on the couch, or in the kitchen, or — as a quick peek around the corner revealed — on the bed. It left Alex perplexed, until she saw the curtain on the balcony door flap inward as if from a sudden breeze. She walked over to the door and pushed the curtain aside to reveal Maggie standing with her elbows propped against the balcony railing, staring out at the city skyline.

“For someone who’s always cold, it seems a little weird for you to be out here without a jacket on,” Alex said, stepping in close so she could wrap her arms around Maggie’s waist.

“I needed to clear my head,” Maggie said, easing back until her head rested against Alex’s shoulder. She shivered, and Alex ran her hands along Maggie’s bare arms, feeling gooseflesh rise at her touch. “You feel so warm.”

“That’s the Pad Thai I inhaled,” Alex said, and Maggie chuckled, the sound reverberating throughout Alex’s body. She pressed a kiss to the crown of Maggie’s head and drew her closer, her eyes roaming over the familiar view. “There’s the CatCo building,” she said, pointing out the familiar landmark. “And just a little further over is L-Corp, and right over there, though you can’t quite see it because the Edge building is blocking it, is the DEO. And down there,” she pointed toward the brightly lit streets angling off in the distance, “is the promenade.”

“That’s convenient,” Maggie said, her hands coming up to catch at Alex’s so she could tangle their fingers together. “It must be nice living so close to everything.”

“Sometimes,” Alex said, the contrast between the wintry air on her skin and the warmth of Maggie’s back pressing against her front kicking off a feedback loop of sensation that left her near to trembling. She felt her breath catch as Maggie squeezed her hands, as she leaned into her a little more deeply. Still, Alex was able to focus enough to sound somewhat close to normal as she added, “I like to go running by the waterfront on Sunday mornings, and there’s a great little restaurant where Kara and I meet for brunch afterwards.”

“Your sister does seem like a brunch sort of girl,” Maggie observed, and Alex laughed softly, both for the accuracy of the assessment and the wryness in Maggie’s tone.

“You’ve never seen someone destroy an all-you-can-eat buffet like she can,” Alex said, and felt Maggie shiver again, though whether from the cold or her nearness, Alex wasn’t sure. Either way, she felt an instinctive need to tuck her head into Maggie’s shoulder and pull her as close as she could, to wrap her arms even tighter around Maggie’s frame as she said, “It’s probably time to get inside. We could watch TV, or if you wanted to go down to the promenade there’s a movie theater, or…”

She trailed off then, for Maggie was turning in her arms. And in that instant, it seemed as if all the parallel and infinite worlds within the universe were unfolding and distilling into one single sure gleam in Maggie Sawyer’s eyes.

“No,” Maggie said, her voice rough with promise. “I don’t want to watch TV, and I don’t want to go down to the promenade.”

And with that she took Alex’s hand and pivoted around her, drawing her past the billowing curtain and into the apartment. She pulled the door shut, cutting off the noise and air of the city, and turned, flipping the lock into place.

“I…uh…usually leave it unlocked,” Alex said, before belatedly realizing that she should probably come up with a reason for doing so that didn’t involve outing her sister’s secret identity.

But Maggie only smiled and tilted her head to the side, softly saying, “Maybe just this once?”

And Alex couldn’t do anything but nod at that, because it was right that this night be about them and nothing else. Not their demanding jobs, not her sister, not her obligations to J’onn or her mother or science or the people of the United States — just them, and only them.

Together. Finally.

Maggie took the lead as they moved through the apartment, veering off course to dim the lights one by one until only the fireplace and the single candle, still burning in the middle of the table, were left to light their way. She picked up the candle and carried it to the dresser, still drawing Alex along behind, their interlaced fingers tangling more tightly with every step until they stood next to the dresser. Then Maggie put down the candle and turned, drawing Alex into her arms.

“Just do what feels right,” Maggie said, and Alex heard an echo of the words Maggie had said to her on her couch, that first night back in what now felt like a lifetime ago. She had been so nervous and uncertain then, but she didn’t feel that way now; didn’t feel anything but alive and so, so grateful to finally have reached this place with this incredible, smart, complicated woman. This woman that she —

She tried not to think it; tried not to say the word that she knew she shouldn’t be on her mind, at least not this early. But it was there in the way her heart sped up when Maggie rested her hands on either side of her waist, and it was there in the way her breath hitched when Maggie stepped closer, and it was there on her lips when Maggie arched up on the balls of her feet and pressed their mouths together. In the press of her hips, the taste of her tongue.

A feeling, a certainty, that could only be one thing.

_Love._

Alex felt Maggie’s hands tug at her blouse, easing it out of her jeans, and then her long, deft fingers were undoing the buttons one by one until it fell open, exposing Alex’s bare skin. Maggie stepped forward, a smile drifting across her face as she pressed her lips to Alex’s collarbone while, with slow, steady motions she drew the blouse off Alex’s shoulders and down her arms. Once free, Alex immediately lifted her hands to caress the back of Maggie’s head, her fingers catching and threading through that thick fall of silken hair while Maggie’s lips traced patterns over her skin. Maggie’s hands were moving too — skimming up her back, catching at her bra, unhooking first one eyelet, then the other, and Alex felt her hands tighten in Maggie’s hair as the straps fell free.

“Babe, let go so I can get this off,” Maggie murmured, and Alex chuckled into Maggie’s hair, easing back a step so Maggie could slide the black lace off her arms. She watched Maggie fold the bra and set it on the edge of the dresser, then turn back to Alex, her eyes scanning over her bare torso. It was a situation that should have made Alex feel self-conscious, but instead she just felt warm at the gaze; at the smile, delicate as a caress, that slid over Maggie’s face as she drew close once again. “Now me.”

Alex drew in a breath, fighting hard to focus enough to tug Maggie’s t-shirt free of her jeans. It took longer than it should have; Maggie had decided the best place for her hands was on Alex’s waist, and her fingers were tracing delicate patterns over Alex’s bare ribs in a way that was more than a little distracting. By the time she got the shirt over Maggie’s head, Alex’s hands were shaking to the point that Maggie felt the need to clutch them between her own, saying, “It’s just skin.”

“Yes, but it’s your skin,” Alex said, and then blushed when Maggie burst out laughing. “I suppose that does make me sound a little like a serial killer.”

“I’ll have to put you on my watch list,” Maggie said, still chuckling as she drew Alex’s hands up until, of their own accord, they found her bra clasp and tugged it free. Maggie helped Alex slide the black bra off her shoulders and then took a half-step back, holding still while Alex let her eyes roam over shoulders and breasts and abs.

“This too,” Maggie said after a moment, drawing Alex’s hands toward the waistband of her jeans, and some dim, still-functioning part of Alex’s brain processed that Maggie was giving her a gift in this; was assuaging her nerves by choosing to let Alex undress her first. She took a deep breath and fumbled through unfastening the black leather belt, her knuckles brushing against Maggie’s stomach as she drew the button free. Maggie drew in a sharp breath at that, her toned abs tightening.

“You okay?” Alex asked, her head snapping up to meet Maggie’s eyes.

Maggie nodded, smiling at her, then leaned forward and drew her into a kiss. “You’re beautiful, keep going,” she said, in that same low voice that made Alex want to melt, and Alex felt her heart thud hard again, so hard this time that she began to wonder just how much more it could take.

 _Might as well die happy,_ she thought, and set to work on peeling off Maggie’s jeans. It took a few minutes; they were tight for one, clinging stubbornly to the skin, and Maggie had forgotten to take her boots off before they got to this part, leading to more than a little comedy as Alex tried to help Maggie keep her balance while she chucked them off. But finally she was standing there in only a pair of black boy-cut panties. She didn’t say anything; simply smiled as she guided Alex’s hands downward, peeling the underwear away until it pooled around her feet, until she stood there wearing nothing but what seemed like acres of golden-brown skin.

“God,” Alex breathed. She was a doctor, she had seen people naked more times than she could count, but she had never felt anything quite like what she felt when she looked at Maggie, standing next to her bed, looking small and sexy and oh so beautiful. She reached her right hand out, sliding her fingertips from Maggie’s shoulder to just below her elbow, tracing the fine hairs, the soft curves, the slight difference in texture between the softer skin of her shoulders and the more tanned skin of her forearm. Quietly, she said, “I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than you.”

Maggie smiled, blushing a little, and took a step forward, her eyes sliding over Alex’s torso with evident delight before locking on her jeans. “My turn,” she rasped, and something in the roughness of her tone made Alex quaver in her boots — boots which, it turned out, were the first thing to go.

She had feared she would start to feel self-conscious when Maggie began pulling off her jeans, but Maggie kept her distracted with slow, gentle kisses to her shoulders and chest. Still, she shivered when Maggie dropped to a crouch, her fingers slow and sure as she helped Alex step out of one pant leg, then the other. Then she rose in one smooth movement, placing a kiss just below Alex’s navel while she drew the black lace panties off her hips, down her thighs, over her knees. She looked up at Alex, her brow furrowing, and pressed the flat of her hand to the scar above Alex’s right knee, a remnant of when she had been stabbed a year earlier.

“We match,” Maggie said, her hand still lingering as she rose to her full height. “Hazards of the job?”

“Guess we both zigged when we should have zagged,” Alex said, and Maggie laughed at that.

“I guess so.” Maggie took a step forward, her hand sliding up to catch at the back of Alex’s neck. “I’m so glad I get to be here with you tonight.”

“Me too,” Alex said, just as her mouth was engulfed in a hot kiss, the first of what was to be many, their bodies drawing ever closer until, with a shock, Alex realized that she was standing skin to skin against Maggie’s frame. She took in a deep breath and felt the press of Maggie’s diaphragm against her belly, Maggie’s breasts against her midsection. Everything was just slightly off because of their height difference, and yet it felt so right — so smooth and strong and beautiful.

Just so beautiful.

She felt Maggie pull away, but only long enough to pivot, to tug the sheet and comforter free from beneath the pillows and draw it back so she could slide inside. She pulled Alex down with her, drawing her forward like a magnet until Alex was laying on her left side, her mouth pressed to Maggie’s, right leg curling over Maggie’s from thigh to shin. She felt herself being pressed onto her back, the movement slow yet inevitable, and went willingly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“You’re good?” Maggie asked, propping up on one elbow so she could look down at Alex, the dark tangle of her hair cascading gently over one shoulder.

“It’s all just…I can’t even…” Alex trailed off, looking up at Maggie with what she was sure was a ridiculous grin. “So yes.”

She expected Maggie to laugh at that, but she just smiled instead, her gaze passing over Alex’s face as if she was trying to memorize every line and curve. She rubbed her thumb over Alex’s cheek, the movement slow and oh so gentle, and then leaned in, kissing her again. Alex surrendered to it, her lips parting when Maggie’s did, her tongue sliding up to meet Maggie’s as it slipped inside. She felt Maggie shift over her, her weight coming to rest more fully on Alex’s body, and Alex felt another sigh escape her lips at the sense of safety and security that flooded through her veins. Yet it was mixed with desire, for with every touch of Maggie’s hands, every shift of her weight, Alex felt the slow-building tension in her increase by degrees. She wondered how high it would go; how much she could actually take before she imploded with need. Wondered how much Maggie realized just what she did to her.

“The way you touch me,” Maggie said, her mouth drifting down to kiss across Alex’s pulse point. She shifted against her, their breasts pressing against each other, and Alex felt her breath catch in her throat.

“You like?” she asked, slowing the gentle trace of her fingertips down the curve of Maggie’s spine. She’d been doing that from the second they ended up in this position, a tiny part of her brain utterly fascinated with each plane and curve — the strength of Maggie’s shoulders, the small of her back, the strong, supple curve of her ass. And smooth — every inch of it so gloriously smooth. _Because I’m gay and I always have been,_ she realized, feeling the rightness of this, the final bit of certainty that only this moment could provide.

“It’s perfect,” Maggie said, sliding up to press gentle kisses to Alex’s neck. She caught the lobe of Alex’s ear between her teeth, softly asking, “Where did you learn to touch like that?”

“Doctor’s hands,” Alex said, and felt Maggie’s tongue slide into her ear. “Jesus.”

“Lover’s hands,” Maggie husked, and the tone of it sent something straight through Alex, something hot and sharp and electric. She pushed upward, taking advantage of her height for what she hoped would be the first of many times as she rolled hard, pushing Maggie up and over until their positions were reversed. Maggie just giggled and pulled her closer, saying, “Nice move, Danvers.”

“Thanks.” Alex wanted to lay down on top of Maggie, to press against her with the same thoroughness that she had just experienced, but another thought intruded, one that took root in her mind and simply wouldn’t let go. She looked down at Maggie, biting her lip. “Can I...”

“God, yes,” Maggie said, catching at her right hand and pulling it against her cheek. She turned her head, kissing the palm before drawing each finger to her mouth and sucking gently. She bit playfully on the tip of Alex’s thumb, smiling as if she knew the exact moment when Alex felt the full sensation of it shudder through her, and pressed a kiss to Alex’s knuckles. “I love that you ask me. But when we get to this point, you don’t have to.”

And Alex just looked down at her, sure that same stupid smile was spread over her face, and felt Maggie shift under her gaze, her eyes sliding away. “You’re sure?” she asked, her hand caressing Maggie’s face until Maggie looked at her again.

“You’re a lot, Alex Danvers,” Maggie said, drawing in a deep breath, and Alex saw that slightly skittish look in her eye, an instinct that, she sensed, Maggie struggled against whenever things got too intense. She wondered if she should ease back, if she should give Maggie a minute to regroup, but Maggie just kissed the center of Alex’s palm and drew it toward her own chest. “Please touch me.”

And so Alex did, exploring Maggie’s upper body with her hands and her mouth, tracing over the newly formed scar on her right shoulder, the hollow of her throat, her chest, her breasts. The last of these were a revelation; Alex had been a doctor long enough to feel more than a few in her time, but she had never been able to really appreciate the softness of the skin, the way they molded to her hands, the rough, dimpled texture of the nipple under her tongue. She felt Maggie arch against her and slid one hand down to press against her hips, felt her buck harder at the touch.

“You okay?” she asked, and felt Maggie clutch at her head, dragging her upward for a kiss that left them both panting. Her hand slid, almost of its own accord, toward Maggie’s center, and Maggie caught at it, drawing it closer, whispering soft, low guidance that Alex did her best to follow. Slow touches first, until she felt the wetness, until it felt safe to slide one finger, then two, into the heart of her, the unbelievable warmth. And it was only then that she realized the real advantage her height gave her, for she was able to slip one arm under Maggie’s head, to cradle her close without losing leverage, to look into her eyes and watch as the pleasure built until Maggie wrapped a leg around her hips and clutched at her shoulders and arched upward, her head tilting back while her eyes fluttered shut.

Alex kissed her slowly, kissed her back to the world, unable to hide the smile on her face, the pure pleasure of watching Maggie Sawyer come undone in her arms. It made her ache all over, a steady longing that she was fairly sure only Maggie could cure. But she could wait a little longer for it; there was no need to rush. After all these years of waiting, who cared about a few more minutes?

And yet when Maggie finally opened her eyes and looked at her, Alex felt both her need and her nerves shift into overdrive. Maggie must have sensed it too, for she didn’t say anything, simply smiled and pressed a kiss to the underside of Alex’s chin before easing her onto her back and sliding over her, pushing up into a fairly impressive full plank position before slowly lowering downward until their bodies were pressed together once again. Only this time, Alex realized, Maggie had made sure that her weight was centered low — hip to hip, skin to skin.

She shuddered as Maggie pressed into her, bracing on her forearms until Alex started to tremble beneath her. “I told you we fit,” she breathed, her hair falling over her shoulders, and Alex gathered the strands in her hands, using them to anchor her against the intense, incredible need building in her. Maggie moved against her and she felt it ratchet up another notch, a deep, throbbing intensity — stronger than thirst, deeper than lust. It was too much, it was simply too much, and Alex lunged upward, seeking out Maggie’s mouth —

And somehow she timed it all wrong, because Maggie was leaning downward at the same moment too, and instead of their mouths coming together, it turned into a headbutt that would have put the average K’hund to shame.

“Jesus Christ,” Maggie moaned, rolling to the side, one hand clutched to her head.

“Oh my God,” Alex said, her head clanging like a gong, and blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. It took a minute for her ears to stop ringing, for her eyes to adjust, for her head to stop feeling like it was floating on a sea of Jello. Once she had recovered, she rolled to the side, one hand lifting to brush the hair away from Maggie’s face. “I’m so sorry. Let me see.”

“I’m good,” Maggie said, her eyes squeezed shut, face twisted in a grimace of pain. “Just give me a minute.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated, pushing to her knees, her eyes on Maggie while she waited for the pain to fade. She felt tears prick at her eyes, tears borne of the naïve thought that somehow, she would have managed to be less hopeless in bed now that she knew she was gay. It was ridiculous, of course — not just to think that she would magically have some great skills as a lover, but to get so spun out over something so random and accidental. It should have been funny so long as Maggie didn’t have a concussion — and yet Alex’s confidence, so sky-high only moments before, was suddenly at a low ebb.

Maggie rolled onto her back and lifted her hand from her face, blinking slowly. She opened one eye, closed it again, and then squinted at Alex, rubbing her forehead. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a really hard head?”

“It’s been mentioned once or twice,” Alex said, and Maggie laughed, wincing a little as the sound reverberated through her skull. She lifted a hand to her forehead, rubbing it again, and then fumbled behind her, pulling a pillow beneath her head. The next thing Alex knew she was reaching across the mattress and grasping Alex's hand, which only made Alex feel more embarrassed. After all, Maggie was the one who deserved comfort, not her. “Turns out I still suck at this.”

“You don’t, and what happened about ten minutes ago proves it,” Maggie said as she reclined against the pillow, her skin like burnished copper in the warm candlelight. Her face was still, but she didn’t seem angry. Worried, maybe, which just made Alex feel worse.

“You know it’s okay if you need to take a break, right?” Maggie asked, threading their fingers together. She squeezed gently, adding, “We’ve got all night. We could —“

“Get some sleep, watch a movie, pretend we’re having a sleepover,” Alex said, hearing bitterness in her tone. “Try again later.”

“Everything except the sleepover part. I was never big on those.” Maggie let go of Alex’s hand, but she didn’t get out of bed; instead, she moved her hand to Alex’s knee, just rested it there, the heat of her palm sending quiet flutters of sensation to Alex’s cheeks, her chest, her groin. “Or we could just go back to not trying so hard and see what happens.”

Alex looked down at Maggie, feeling her skin prickle as Maggie turned her wrist, her palm inching toward the inside of Alex’s thigh. Her eyes seemed to capture Alex, drawing her down within that luminescent gaze.

“This doesn’t have to be perfect,” Maggie said, her hand drifting upward slowly. So slowly. “It just has to be us.”

The next thing Alex knew Maggie was caressing her, her fingers exploring with the gentle precision of a blind woman tracing the shape of a face. A minute, five, a lifetime — Alex wasn’t sure how long it went on, wasn’t sure of anything save for Maggie’s delicate, precise, infinitely tender touch, and her eyes, those dark eyes that never wavered, save for once when her fingers found Alex’s wetness. Then her eyelids fluttered, her head tilting back. She swallowed, her throat constricting, and looked at Alex again, one corner of her mouth turning upward. “You feel so fucking good.”

And Alex smiled at that, because it was the first time someone had ever said anything like it, or at least in a way that she believed. Then her back arched, her shoulders rose, her diaphragm lifted and expanded. Her head felt too heavy — it kept trying to fall backwards, and when she would pull it down, trying to hold Maggie’s gaze, it would snap forward, tilt sideways, force her to brace her palm on the mattress or risk falling. She drew in a breath to speak, but all that came out was a soft, “Oh” as she closed her eyes and turned her head, hearing something that sounded like music singing through her blood. Yet there was no music; just Maggie, touching her in ways that no one had ever touched her before, in ways that made her think, _Yes, this. This is how it’s supposed to feel._

She forced her eyes open, forced her gaze back to Maggie, who was leaning up on one elbow, straining toward her, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Her fingers moved deeper, and Alex felt her thighs tremble, her whole body waver. She put a hand out, clutching at Maggie’s shoulder, and breathed, “I think I need to — I might fall —“

Maggie surged toward her in an instant, wrapping an arm around her with sudden, pivoting twist that put her on her knees, and Alex thought _If that’s what yoga can do maybe I should try it after all._ Then the thought was gone, lost in the feel of Maggie’s lips on hers, Maggie’s tongue sliding across hers like that first taste of Scotch after a long day, Maggie’s weight pressed against her and then over her as she drew her down, eased her head against the pillow, kissed her face and smiled at her with something so much more than lust in those brown eyes. And still that slow rhythm continued, Maggie’s fingers cool and warm, firm and gentle; taking everything and giving all.

“I can feel how close you are,” Maggie whispered, her breath warm against Alex’s cheek.

Alex nodded, too lost for words, and buried her fingers deep in Maggie’s hair. Her mouth sought for something to latch on to; found and earlobe, grabbed hold.

Maggie let out a surprised gasp that turned into a throaty laugh. She kissed the side of Alex’s jaw, murmuring, “You mind if I do something to tip you over the edge?”

“Anything,” Alex hissed, and caught a glimpse of Maggie grinning a very dangerous grin. Then she kissed Alex hard enough to make her hips jump. She felt her whole body tremble as Maggie started to slide downward, kissing every inch of skin she passed, until she was laying with her head tilted sideways against Alex’s hip. She nudged Alex’s thighs open, drawing Alex’s legs over first one shoulder, then the other.

“I’ve got you, Baby,” Maggie said, her voice a low rasp, and Alex looked down just in time to see Maggie glance up at her. Then her fingers grasped Alex’s hand and her mouth found Alex’s clit and it was more than perfect, it was, it was —

_Maggie, Maggie, Maggie._

Time passed, circled around, brought her back to herself. She felt Maggie draw her close, heard a soft hum in her ear, warm kisses on her throat and mouth. She buried her face in soft skin and silken hair, breathed deeply.

“How you doing there, Danvers?” Maggie asked, her voice a warm, contented rumble. And pleased too; she sounded awfully damn pleased with herself. Not that Alex could blame her.

“That was — I’ve never —“ Alex rolled onto her back and pointed toward the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure a part of me is still up there.”

“Bilocation, huh?” Maggie said, giving her a sideways smile. “I’ll have to add that to the resume.”

“You really should. But first…” Alex rolled over and eased on top of Maggie, feeling the shock of skin against skin. She wasn't sated, she realized; wasn't even close to being done. “Teach me your secrets, oh wise one. I want to know everything.”

Maggie’s eyes crinkled as if she was about to burst out laughing, but what came out was a yawn instead. She laughed when Alex began to poke her, fought to catch at Alex’s index finger, drew it to her mouth and kissed it still. “Tomorrow, okay? You wore me out.”

“But don’t you want…I mean, you’re still —“ Alex trailed off, blushing at what she felt against her thigh. “You’re still so wet.”

“That’s because I came again when I went down on you,” Maggie said, a contented smile stealing over her face. “And though it wasn’t as good as you touching me, it was more than enough.”

“Wait, you…” Alex blinked, her brain reordering itself to this wondrous new world she now found herself in. “That…um…can happen?”

“Occasionally.” Maggie gave her a sly smile — the sort, Alex thought, that she was probably going to be seeing a lot for a while. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” Alex leaned in close and kissed Maggie, the taste of her sweet and smoky all at once. “So tomorrow. Because I want to know everything.”

Maggie chuckled as she looked up at her, eyes sparkling. “Everything there is to know about everything, I promise.”

“No,” Alex murmured, kissing her slow. “Everything there is to know about you.”

\-------

She almost screwed it up, of course. Kara went missing, and Alex panicked, blaming herself for not being focused enough, not being aware enough, even though there was literally nothing she could have done to stop it. And then Maggie stopped by to talk to her and she didn’t just blow her off, she basically broke up with her, and if it hadn’t been for Maggie giving her another chance she’d have turned the best night of her life into yet another one-night stand.

But Maggie was wise and Maggie was forgiving and Maggie had somehow figured out that Kara was Supergirl, which made everything so much easier. “Was it when she came to pick up the bike?” Alex asked as they sat on the couch, beers in hand, still a little tentative with each other after the bruising they’d both taken from the roller coaster of the last few days.

“That, plus she freaked out like you wouldn’t believe when I got shot,” Maggie said, her lips curving in a sardonic smirk. “I couldn’t figure out why she was standing around worrying about me when Laser Guy was still running around loose.”

“So you’ve known for a month and didn’t tell me,” Alex said, giving her girlfriend a sideways look. “Anything else you’ve figured out that I should know?”

“That you’re smart, and beautiful, and you sometimes get a little too stuck in your own head.” Maggie reached across the distance between them, clinking their beers against each other. “We’ll work on it together.”

And Alex smiled at that, smiled at the “we,” but also at the “together.” Because “together” was something she’d never had, not really — to have the bond that came not just from being a daughter or a sister, but from being a friend, a lover, a partner. It was time for this, she realized; time to find out what she could be, what they could be together. To open up and finally — finally! — let somebody in.

It wasn’t perfect, of course. Nothing could be.

But it was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back here for the Official LTP Playlist, as soon as I get organized enough to post it. 
> 
> Also, more stories in this series coming soon. These two still have lots to say, so stay tuned.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and I like love. What's also love? Saying hi on my brand spanking new [tumblr](http://www.kelinswriter.tumblr.com), where this and a bunch of old fic will eventually be cross-posted. I might…might…even maybe take prompts. If you're nice.


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